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*o- *'..•* .A 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 
































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“ Her wide bright eyes sought his, with the terror of a snared bird.” 

[Page 88] 


U?e Ward 

of 

Kipg Capugc 

J\ Romance op 

Che Danish Conouesc 

WRiccen bv 

Occur AliLjencRancz 

nuchoR op 

Gfte Gmnu op LeiP cbe Lucky 

h avipc piccurcs by croy $ 
mARCARee wesc KinneY 

PUBLISbCD BY 

HCHTClurg^Co 

ChlCflGO 

1903 



~TZ3 

. L 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

APR 27 1903 

Copyright Entry 
CUSS <v XXc. No. 

s s z 1 $ 

COPY A. 



Copyright 

By A. C. McClurg & Co. 

1903 


Published April 22, 1903 


University Press • John Wilson 
and Son • Cambridge, USA. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 


F OR the facts of this romance I have made free 
use of the following authorities : The Anglo- 
Saxon Chronicle ; The Venerable Bede’s Ecclesiastical 
History of England ; Ingulph’s History of the Abbey 
of Croyland ; William of Malmesbury's Chronicle of 
the Kings of England; The Chronicles of Florence of 
Worcester; Lingard’s History and Antiquities of the 
Anglo-Saxon Church, and Lingard’s History of Eng- 
land; Dean Spencer’s The White Robe of Churches; 
Collier’s Ecclesiastical History of Great Britain; 
Montalembert’s Monks of the West; Thrupp’s Anglo- 
Saxon Home; Hall’s Queens Before the Conquest; 
Kemble’s Saxons in England ; Ridgway’s Gem of 
Thorney Island; Brayley and Britton’s History of the 
Ancient Palace and Late Houses of Parliament; Lof- 
tie’s Westminster Abbey and Loftie’s History of Lon- 
don ; Allen’s History and Antiquities of London ; 
Lappenberg’s History of England Under the Anglo- 
Saxon Kings; Sharon Turner’s History of the Anglo- 
Saxons ; Knight’s Old England ; Hume’s History of 
England ; Green’s Conquest of England ; Thierry’s 
History of the Conquest of England by the Normans; 
Freeman’s History of the Norman Conquest. 

For the translations of Hdvamdl, etc., used at the 
beginnings of the chapters, I am indebted to Professor 
Rasmus B. Anderson and Mr. Paul du Chaillu. 

O. A. L. 

CHICAGO, April x, 1903, 





















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Fall of the House of Frode n 

II. Randalin, Frode’s Daughter 21 

III. Where War-Dogs Kennel 33 

IV. When Royal Blood is Young Blood 42 

V. Before the King 51 

VI. The Training of Fridtjof the Page 64 

VII. The Game of Swords 72 

VIII. Taken Captive 84 

IX. The Young Lord of Ivarsdale 90 

X. As the Norns decree 103 

XI. When my Lord comes Home from War 118 

XII. The Foreign Page 131 

XIII. When Might made Right 145 

XIV. How the Fates cheated Randalin 158 

XV. How Fridtjof cheated the Jotun 171 

XVI. The Sword of Speech 182 

XVII. The Judgment of the Iron Voice 191 

XVIII. What the Red Cloak hid 202 

XIX. The Gift of the Elves 213 

XX. A Royal Reckoning 223 


7 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXI. With the Jotun as Chamberlain 237 

XXII. How the Lord of Ivarsdale paid his Debt . . . 250 

XXIII. A Blood-Stained Crown 260 

XXIV. On the Road to London 272 

XXV. The King’s Wife 283 

XXVI. In the Judgment Hall 294 

XXVII. Pixie-Led 307 

XXVIII. When Love meets Love 319 

XXIX. The Ring of the Coiled Snake 325 

XXX. When the King takes a Queen 340 

XXXI. The Twilight of the Gods 356 

XXXII. In Time’s Morning 372 


8 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ Her wide bright eyes sought his, with the terror of 

a snared bird.” Frontispiece 

“ ‘ I will have your tongue if you lie to me.’ ”... Facing page 54 

“Within sound of the mellow harp music it was 

balmiest spring-time.” ” 146 

“ The man in the passage saw her smile.” .... ” 246 

“ ‘ Let me through to my husband.’ ” ” 294 

Is it thus, on his knee, that one offers pity?’ ” . . 


322 


FOREWORD 


HERE is an old myth of a hero who renewed his 



JL strength each time he touched the earth, and 
finally was overcome by being raised in the air and 
crushed. Whether or not the Angles risked a like 
fate as they raised themselves away from the primitive 
virtues that had been their life and strength, no one 
can tell ; but it has been well said that when North- 
ern blood mingled with English blood at the time of 
the Danish Conquest, the Anglo-Saxon race touched 
the earth again. 


The 


Ward of King Canute 


CHAPTER I 

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF FRODE 


Full stocked folds 
I saw at the sons of Fitjung, 

Now they carry beggars’ staffs; 
Wealth is 

Like the twinkling of an eye, 

The most unstable of friends. 

HAVAMAL. 



iackness of the mid- 
night paled, the 
broken towers and wrecked 
walls of the monastery 
up dim and stark 
the gray light. The 
-drawn sigh of a wak- 
ing world crept through 
the air and rustled the ivy 
The pitying angel 
of dreams, who had striven all night long to restore 
the plundered shrine and raise from their graves the 


1 1 



THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


band of martyred nuns, ceased from his ministra- 
tions, softly as a bubble frees itself from the pipe 
that shaped it, and floated away on the breath of 
the wind. Through a breach in the moss-grown wall, 
the first sunbeam stole in and pointed a bright finger 
across the cloister garth at the charred spot in the 
centre, where missals and parchment rolls had made 
a roaring fire to warm the invaders’ blood-stained 
hands. 

As the lark rose through the brightening air to 
greet the coming day, a woman in the tunic and cowl 
of a nun opened what was left of the wicket-gate in 
the one unbattered wall. A trace of the luxury that 
had dwelt under the gilded spires survived in her 
robes, which had been of a royal purple and embroid- 
ered with silken flowers ; but the voice of Time and of 
Ruin spoke from them also, for the purple was faded 
to a rusty brown, and the silken embroideries were 
threadbare. She struck a note in perfect harmony with 
her surroundings, as she stood under the crumbling 
arch, peering out into the flowering lane. 

Stretching away from her feet in dewy freshness, 
it made a green link between the herb-garden of St. 
Mildred’s and the highway of the Watling Street. Like 
the straggling hedges that were half buried under a net 
of wild roses, red and white, the path was half effaced 
by grass ; but beyond, her eye could follow the straight 
line of the great Roman road over marsh and meadow 
and hill-top. If grass had gathered there also, during 
the Anglo-Saxon times, there were no traces of it now, 


12 


THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF FRODE 


in the days of Edmund Ironside when Canute of Den- 
mark was leading his war-host back and forth over its 
stones. Between the dark walls of oak and beech, it 
gleamed as white as the Milky Way. The nun was 
able to trace its course up the slope of the last hill. 
Just beyond the crest, a pall of smoke was spread 
over a burning village. Though it was miles away, it 
seemed to her that the wind brought cries of anguish 
to her ear, and prayers for mercy. Shivering, she 
turned her face back to the desolate peace of the 
ruins. 

“ Now is it clear to all men why a bloody cloud 
was hung over the land in the year that Ethelred came 
to the throne,” she said. “ I feel as the blessed dead 
might feel should they be forced to leave the shelter 
of their graves and look out upon the world.” 

Rising from its knees beside a bed of herbs, a 
second figure in faded robes approached the gate. 
Sister Sexberga was very old, much older than her 
companion, and her face was a wrinkled parchment 
whereon Time had written some terrible lessons. 

She said gently, “ We are one with the dead, be- 
loved sister. Those who lie under the chancel lay no 
safer than we, last night, though the Pagans’ passing 
tread shook the ground we lay on, and their songs 
broke our slumbers. Let us cease not to give thanks 
to Him who has spread over us the peace of the 
grave.” 

The shadows deepened in the eyes of Sister Wyn- 
freda as she turned them back toward the lane, for her 

*3 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


patience was not yet ripe to perfect mellowness. She 
was but little past the prime of her rich womanhood, 
and still bore the traces of a great beauty. She bore 
in addition, upon cheek and forehead, the scars of three 
frightful burns. 

“ The peace of the grave can never be mine while 
my heart is open to the sorrows of others/’ she an- 
swered with sadness. “ Sister Sexberga, that was an 
English band which passed last night. I made out 
English words in their song. I am in utmost fear for 
the Danes of Avalcomb.” 

“ ‘ They that take the sword shall perish with the 
sword/ ” the old nun quoted, a little sternly. “ An 
Englishman was despoiled of his lands when Frode 
the Dane took Avalcomb. If now Frode’s turn has 
come — ” 

Her companion made a gesture of entreaty. “ It 
is not for Frode that I am timorous, dear sister, nor 
for the boy, Fridtjof ; it is for Randalin, his daughter.” 

Sister Sexberga was some time silent. When at 
last she spoke, it was but to repeat slowly, “ Randalin, 
his daughter. God pity her!” 

Sister Wynfreda was no longer listening. She had 
quitted her hold upon the gate and taken a step for- 
ward, straining her eyes. They had not deceived her. 
Out of a tall mass of golden bloom at the farther end 
of the lane, an arm clad in brown homespun had tossed 
itself for one delirious instant. Trailing her robes over 
the daisied grass, the nun came upon a wounded man 
lying face downward in the tangle. 

14 


THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF FRODE 


There was little in that to awaken surprise; it 
would have been stranger had warriors passed with- 
out leaving some such mute token in their wake. Yet 
when the united strength of the four arms had turned 
the limp weight upon its back, a cry of astonishment 
rose from each throat. 

“ The woodward of Avalcomb ! ” 

“ The hand of the Lord hath fallen !” 

After a moment the younger woman said in a 
trembling voice, “ The whisper in my heart spoke 
truly. Dearest sister, put your arm under here, 
and we will get him to his feet and bring him in, 
and he will tell us what has happened. See ! he 
is shaking off his swoon. After he has swallowed 
some of your wine, he will be able to speak and tell 
us.” 

It was muscle-breaking work for women’s backs, 
for though he tried instinctively to obey their direc- 
tions, the man was scarcely conscious; his arms were 
like lead yokes upon his supporters’ shoulders. Just 
within the gate their strength gave out, and they 
were forced to put him down among the spicy herbs. 
There, as one was pulling off her threadbare cloak to 
make him a pillow, and the other was starting after 
her cordial, he opened his eyes. 

“Master!” he muttered. “Master? Have they 
gone? ” 

In an instant Sister Wynfreda was on her knees 
beside him. “ Is it the English you mean? Did they 
beset the castle?” 

*5 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Slowly the man’s clouded eyes cleared. “ The 
Sisters — ” he murmured. “ I had the intention — to 
get to you — but I fell — ” His words died away in a 
whisper, and his eyelids drooped. Sister Sexberga 
turned again to seek her restorative. Sister Wynfreda 
leaned over and shook him. 

“ Answer me, first. Where is your master? And 
young Fridtjof? And your mistress?” 

He shrank from her touch with a gasp of pain. 
“ Dead,” he muttered. “ Dead — At the gate — 
Frode and the boy — The raven-starvers cut them 
down like saplings.” 

“And Randalin?” 

“ I heard her scream as the Englishman seized 
her — Leofwinesson had her round the waist — they 
knocked me on the head, then — I — I — ” Again 
his voice died away. 

Sister Wynfreda made no attempt to recall him. 
Mechanically she held his head so that her companion 
might pour the liquid down his throat. That done, 
she brought water and bandages, and stood by, absent- 
eyed and in silence, while Sexberga found his wounds 
and dressed them. It was the older woman who spoke 
first. 

“ The fate of this maiden lies heavy on your mind, 
beloved,” she said tenderly ; “ and I would have you 
know that my heart also is sorrowful. For all that 
she is the fruit of darkness, it was permitted by the 
Lord that Randalin, Frode’s daughter, should be born 
with a light in her soul. It was in my prayers that 

16 


THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF FRODE 


we might be enabled to feed that light as it were a 
sacred lamp, to the end that in God’s good time the 
spreading glory of its brightness might deliver her 
from the shadows forever.” 

Staring before her with unseeing eyes, Sister 
Wynfreda nodded an absent assent. “ To me also it 
seemed that the Lord had led her to us ... I keep in 
mind how she looked when she came that first morn- 
ing ... a bit of silk was in her hand, which Frode 
had given her for a present, because a golden apple 
was wrought upon it. She came on her horse, with 
the boy Fridtjof, to offer us bread from the castle 
kitchen if we would agree to teach her the secret of 
such handiwork. And when we said that for the sake 
of bread to lighten the evil days we would comply 
with her in the matter, she laughed with pleasure, and 
her laughter was as grateful to the ear as the chime 
of matin bells. I can see her again as she sat above 
us in her saddle, laughing: her long hair blew about 
her, and the red blood glowed in her cheeks, and her 
eyes were like pools that the sun is shining on — ” 
Suddenly the Sister’s voice broke, and she hid her face 
in her hands. 

The old nun regarded her compassionately. Hers 
had been a long hard life, and she was very near the 
mountain-top from whose summit the mystery of the 
valleys is revealed. 

After a time she spoke with tender reverence: 
“ Almighty Father, who hast given us strength to en- 
dure our own trials without murmuring, grant us also 

i7 


2 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


the grace to accept patiently the chastening of those 
we love.” 

The bowed head of Sister Wynfreda sank lower, 
and slowly the heaving of her breast was stilled. In 
the chapel four feeble old voices raised a chant that 
trembled and shook like a quivering heart-string. 

“ I beseech thee now, 

Lord of Heaven, 

And pray to thee, 

Best of human-born, 

That thou pity me, 

Mighty Lord ! 

And aid me, 

Father Almighty, 

That I thy will 
May perform 
Before from this frail life 
I depart.” 


Tremulously sweet it drifted out over the garden 
and blended with the aroma in the air. The wounded 
man smiled through his pain. 

Raising her tear-stained face at last, Sister Wyn- 
freda said humbly, “ God pardon me if I sin in my 
grief, but to me it seems so bitter a thing when trouble 
comes upon the young. The first fall of the young 
bird in its flight, the first blow that startles the young 
horse, — I flinch before them as before my own wounds. 
When the light of the fair young day dies before the 
noon, I feel the shadow in my heart; and it saddens 
me to find a flower that worms have eaten in the bud 
and robbed of its brief life in the sun. How much 

18 


THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF FRODE 


more, then, shall I grieve for the blighting of this 
human flower? I declare with truth that the first time 
I saw her my heart went out to her in a love which 
taught me how mothers feel. Her freshness and glad- 
ness have fed my starved heart like wine. I cannot 
bear that trouble should crush them out of her in the 
very flower of her youth; I cannot bear that tears 
should wear channels down her soft cheeks and dim 
the brightness of her eyes. Sooner would I give what 
remains to me of life! Sister, do I sin? Do I seem to 
murmur against His will? But I have grown used to 
suffering, while she — what has she known but love? 
Oh, have I not suffered enough for both? Could she 
not have been spared ?” Her voice mounted to a cry 
of exceeding bitterness. 

Sister Sexberga rose, stretching toward her a 
tremulous pitying hand. The light that shines on the 
mountain-top was very bright on her wrinkled old 
face. She said softly, “ It is not for me to say that 
you sin in your grief, most dear sister. But I give you 
this thought for your comfort: if you, who are tied to 
her by no bond of the flesh can feel for her so great 
and brooding an affection, what then must be the 
love of Him who fashioned her fair young body and 
lit the light of her glad spirit? Of a surety its tender 
yearning can be no less than yours. It may be that 
with tears He would wash the dust of the world from 
her eyes, that her sight may be clear for a vision of 
holier things. But believe that, even as you would 
shelter her, so will He not forsake her in her helpless- 

i9 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


ness. Believe, and be eased of your fear.” A rustling 
of her robe across the grass, and she was gone. 

The chant ceased, the wavering treble dying away 
in a note of haunting sweetness. The man moaned 
and clutched at his wound; and the bowed figure by 
his side roused herself to tend him. Then a grating 
of rusty hinges made her turn her head. 

Under the crumbling arch, relieved against the 
green of the lane beyond, stood the figure of a slender 
boy wrapped in a mantle of scarlet that bore a 
strangely familiar look. His hair fell upon his shoul- 
ders in soft wavy locks of raven blackness; but his 
face was turned away as his hands fumbled at the 
fastening. 

Sister Wynfreda rose and took a step forward, 
staring at him in bewilderment. 

“ Fridtjof? ” she questioned. 

At the sound of her voice, the boy turned and 
hastened toward her. Then a great cry burst from 
Sister Wynfreda, for the face under the black locks 
was the face of Randalin. 


20 


CHAPTER II 


RANDALIN, FRODE’S DAUGHTER 

At a hoary speaker 
Laugh thou never. 

Often is good that which the aged utter ; 

Oft from a shrivelled hide 
Discreet words issue. 

HAVAMAL. 

HE made a convincing boy, 
this daughter of the Vik- 
ings. Though she was six- 
teen, her graceful body had 
retained most of the lines 
and slender curves of child- 
hood; and she was long of 
limb and broad of shoulder. 
Her head was poised alertly 
above her strong young 
throat, and she was as straight as a fir-tree and as 
supple as a birch. A life out-of-doors had given to her 
skin a tone of warm brown, which, in a land that ex- 
pected women to be lily-fair, was like a mask added to 
her disguise. The blackness of her hair was equally un- 
connected with Northern dreams of beautiful maidens. 
“ Dark-haired women, like slaves, black and bad,” was 
the proverb of the Danish camps. Some fair-tressed 



21 



THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


ancestor back in the past must have qualified his blood 
from the veins of an Irish captive; in no other way 
could one account for those locks, and for her eyes 
that were of the grayish blue of iris petals. 

The eyes were a little staring this morning, as 
though still stretched wide with the horror of the 
things they had looked upon; and all the glowing red 
blood had ebbed away from the brown cheeks. 

She said in a low voice, “ My father . . . Frid- 
tjof . . then stopped to draw a long hard breath 
through her set teeth. 

For the moment Sister Wynfreda was not a nun 
but a woman, — a woman with a great yearning ten- 
derness that might have been a beautiful mother-love. 
She ran to the girl and caught her tremblingly by the 
hands, feeling up her arms to her shoulders and about 
her face, as if to make sure that she was really 
unharmed. 

“ Praise the Lord that you are delivered whole to 
me ! ” she breathed. “ Gram told us — that they had 
taken you.” 

Gazing at her out of horror-filled eyes, Randalin 
stood quite still in her embrace. Her story came from 
her in jerks, and each fragment seemed to leave her 
breathless, though she spoke slowly. 

“ I broke away,” she said. “ They stood around 
me in a ring. Norman Leofwinesson said he would 
carry me before a priest and marry me, so that Aval- 
comb might be his lawfully, whichever king got the 
victory. I said by no means would I wed him ; sooner 


22 


RANDALIN, FRODE’S DAUGHTER 


would I slay him. All thought that a great jest and 
laughed. While they were shouting I slipped between 
them and got up the stairs into a chamber, where I 
bolted the door and would not open to them, though 
they pounded their fists sore and cursed at me. After 
a while the pounding became an exertion to them, and 
one began to talk about the mead that was waiting 
below. And after that they whispered together for a 
space. At last they began to laugh and jeer, and called 
to me that they would go down and drink my wedding 
toast before they broke in the door and fetched me; 
and then they betook themselves to feasting.” 

Sister Wynfreda bent her head to murmur a prayer : 
“ God forgive me if I have lacked charity in my judg- 
ment on the Pagans! If they who have seen the light 
can do such deeds, what can be expected of those who 
yet labor under the curse of darkness?” 

“ I do not understand you,” Randalin said wearily, 
sinking on the grass and passing her hands over her 
strained eyes. “ When a man looks with eyes of long- 
ing upon another man’s property, it is to be expected 
that he will do as much evil as luck allows him. 
Though he has got Baddeby, Norman was covetous 
of Avalcomb. When his lord, Edric Jarl, was still 
King Edmund’s man, he twice beset the castle, and my 
father twice held it against him. And his greed was 
such that he could not stay away even after Edric had 
become the man of Canute.” 

It was the nun’s turn for bewilderment. “ The 
man of Canute? Edric of Mercia, who is married to 

23 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 

the King’s sister? It cannot be that you know what 
you say ! ” 

“ Certainly I know what I say,” the girl returned 
a little impatiently. “All English lords are fraudu- 
lent; men can see that by the state of the country. 
Though he be thrice kinsman to the English King, 
Edric Jarl has joined the host of Canute of Denmark; 
and all his men have followed him. But even that 
agreement could not hold Norman back from Aval- 
comb. He lay hidden near the gate till he saw my 
father come, in the dusk, from hunting, when he fell 
upon him and slew him, and forced an entrance — the 
nithing ! When he had five-and-fifty men and my 
father but twelve ! ” 

She paused, with set lips and head flung high. 
The nun got down stiffly beside her and laid a gentle 
hand upon her knee. 

“ Think not of it, my daughter,” she urged. 
“ Think of your present need and of what it behooves 
us to do. Tell me how you escaped from the chamber, 
and why you wear these clothes.” 

“ They were Fridtjof’s.” She spoke his name very 
softly. “ I found them hanging on the chamber wall. 
In the night the men began to entertain themselves 
with singing, and it could be heard that they were 
getting drunk. It had been in my mind that I would 
stay where I was until they forced the door; then, 
because I would like it better to die than to marry any 
of them, I would throw myself out of the window, and 
the stones below would cause my death. But now it 

24 


RANDALIN, FRODE’S DAUGHTER 

came to me that if I could dress so that they would not 
notice me, there were many good chances that I might 
slip past them and get out through the postern. I 
waited till they were all still, and then I crept into the 
women’s room, and found the bondmaids huddled in 
their beds. They got afraid at the sight of me, for 
they thought I was Fridtjof’s ghost; and they dared 
not move. So I had to go down alone.” She shud- 
dered in spite of herself. “ Never did I think that 
darkness could be so unpleasant, — when one is listen- 
ing for sounds and fears to put out a hand lest it touch 
something alive! But I got past the door and through 
the guard-room, where the Englishmen were snoring 
so loud that they would not have heard if I had 
stamped. In a niche in the wall outside I found Alm- 
stein the steward hiding, full of fear. I made him 
follow me out of the postern and around to the gate 
where . . . my father . . . and . . . Fridtjof . . Her 
voice broke, but she struggled on. “ The English dogs 
had left them there. . . . My father’s face was . . . 
wounded . . . and the moon made his hair all silver 
round it, so that the blood looked to be black blots. . . . 
And Fridtjof’s sword was in his hand. . . . Always he 
had wished to go into battle, though he was no more 
than fourteen winters old. . . . There was a smile on 
his lips. ... I made Almstein dig two graves. He is 
a cowardly fellow, and it is likely that he would have 
left them there till the English were gone. I kissed 
Fridtjof’s mouth, . . . and . . . and I laid . . . my 
father’s cloak . . . over . . . over his . . . face.” 

25 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


It was useless trying to go on; a deep sob shut 
off her voice and threatened to rend her when she 
tried to hold it back. Sister Wynfreda strove with 
gentle arms to draw her down upon her breast. 

“ Suffer the tears to come, my daughter,” she 
urged her tenderly, “ or sooner or later they must.” 

Randalin pulled away almost roughly, dashing the 
drops from her eyes. 

“ They shall not ! ” she cried brokenly. “ They 
shall not! Am I a weak-minded English woman that 
I should shed tears because my kin are murdered? 
I will shed blood to avenge them ; that is befit- 
ting a Danish girl. I will not weep, — as though 
there were shame to wash out ! They died with 
great glory, like warriors. I will fix it in my mind 
that I am a kinswoman of warriors. I will not 
weep.” 

The older woman shrank a little. To ears at- 
tuned to the silence of the grave, such an outburst was 
little less than terrifying; she was at a loss how to 
soothe the girl. To gain a respite, she stole away and 
renewed the wounded man’s bandages. 

After a moment Randalin rose and followed, buck- 
ling her cloak as she went. 

“ Since I am become this man’s lord, I think 
it right for me to see how he fares before I leave 
him,” she explained. Once more she spoke gently, 
though the fire of her pride had quite dried her 
tears. 

“ Before you leave him? ” The form in the faded 
26 


RANDALIN, FRODE'S DAUGHTER 


robes turned inquiringly toward the erect young figure 
in its brave scarlet cloak. “ What is it you say, my 
child? ” 

But Randalin was bending low over the green 
couch. “ Do you know who I am? ” she was asking 
urgently of the woodward. “ Fix your eyes on me and 
try to gather together your wits.” 

Slowly the man's wandering gaze focussed itself; 
a silly laugh welled up in his throat. 

“ It would be no strange wonder if I did not,” he 
chuckled. “ Odin has changed you greatly ; your face 
was never so beautiful. But this once you cannot trick 
me, Fridtjof Frodesson.” 

There came a time when this mistake was a source 
of some comfort to Randalin, Frode’s daughter; but 
now she stirred impatiently. 

" Look again, and try to command your tongue. 
Tell me the state of your feelings. Can you live?” 

The man shook with his foolish laughter. “You 
cub! Will not even being killed cure you of your 
tricks? If you who have been in Valhalla do not 
know what Odin intends about my life, how can I 
know, who have stayed on earth ? ” 

Sister Wynfreda’s hand fell upon the girl's arm. 
“ Disquiet yourself no further,” she whispered. “ It 
is useless and to no end. If it please the Lord to bless 
our labors, the wound will soon be healed. Come this 
way, where he cannot hear our voices, and tell me 
what moves you to speak of leaving. Is it not your 
intention to creep in with us? ” 

27 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


As she yielded reluctantly to the pressure, Ran- 
dalin even showed surprise at the question. “ By no 
means. My errand hither was only to ask for bread. 
I thought it unadvisable to venture into the castle 
kitchen, yet it is needful that I keep up my strength. 
I go direct to the Danish camp to get justice from 
King Canute.” 

The nun reached out and caught the gay cloak, 
gasping. “The Danish camp? You speak in a raving 
fit! Better you thrust yourself into a den of ravenous 
beasts. You know not what you say.” 

Offense stiffened the figure under the cloak. “ It 
is you who do not know. Now, as always, you think 
about Canute what lying English mouths have told of 
him. I know him from my father’s lips. No man on 
the Island is so true as he, or so generous to those 
who ask of him. Time and again have I heard my 
father bid Fridtjof to imitate him. He is the highest- 
minded man in the world.” Her voice as she ended 
was a stone wall of defiance. Sister Wynfreda made a 
desperate dash down another road. 

“ My daughter, I entreat that you will not despise 
my offer. The yoke is not so heavy here. Here is no 
strict convent rule; how could there be? We are but 
a handful of feeble old women left living after those 
who led us are gone, to the end that heathen fog 
smother not utterly the light which once was so bright. 
In truth, most dear child, you would have no hard lot 
among us. A few hours’ work in the garden, — surely 
that is a pleasure, watching the fair green things spring 

28 


RANDALIN, FRODE’S DAUGHTER 


and thrive under your care. And when the tender- 
ness of the birds and the content of the little creep- 
ing creatures have filled your heart to bursting with 
a sense of God’s goodness, to come and stand before 
the Holy Table and pour out your joys in sweet 
melody — ” 

But Randalin’s head was shaking too decidedly, 
though she was not ungentle in her answering. “ I 
give you thanks, Sister Wynfreda, but such a life is 
not for me. My nature is such that I do not like the 
gloomy songs you sing ; nor do I care for green things, 
except to wear in my hair. And it seems to me that I 
should be spiritless and a coward if I should like such 
a life. I am no English girl, to tremble and hide under 
a mean kirtle. I am a Norse maiden, the kinswoman 
of warriors. I think I should not show much honor to 
my father and my brother were I to leave them un- 
avenged and sit down here with you. No, I will go to 
my King and get justice. When he has slain the mur- 
derer and given me the castle again, I will come back; 
and you shall come and live with me, and eat meat 
instead of herbs, and — ” 

In her desperation, Sister Wynfreda caught her by 
the wrists and held her. “ My daughter, my daughter, 
shake off this sleep of your wits, I entreat you! The 
men you are trusting in are dreams which you have 
dreamed in the safety of your father’s arms. They 
among whom you are going are barbarians, — yea, 
devils! It were even better had you married the son 
of Leofwine. Think you I know nothing of the Pagans, 

29 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


that you set my words at naught? Who but Danish- 
men laid low these walls, and slaughtered the holy 
nuns as lambs are torn by wild beasts? Have I not 
seen their horrid wickedness? You think a nun a 
coward? Know you how these scars came on my 
face? Three times, with my own hands, I pressed a 
red-hot iron there to destroy the beauty that allured, 
— else had the Pagans dragged me with them. Was I 
a coward? ” 

Randalin’s eyes were very wide. “ It seems to me 
that you were simple-minded,” she breathed. “ Why 
did you not thrust the iron in his face? ” 

But Sister Wynfreda’s expression changed so 
strangely that the girl foresaw an attack along an- 
other line, and hastened to forestall it. “ It is not 
worth while to tell me further about the matter. Do 
you not see that it is by no means the same? I shall 
be a Danish woman among Danish men. I shall not 
be a captive, to be made a drudge of and beaten. It 
is altogether different. I shall be with my own people, 
my own King. Let us end this talk. Give me the 
bread and let me go. The sun is getting high.” 

She glanced at it as she spoke, and found it so 
much higher than she had realized that her haste 
increased. 

“ No, I dare not wait for it. It is necessary that 
I get a good start, or they will overtake me. They 
are to join Canute near Scoerstan; I heard it talked 
among them. My horse is somewhat heavy in his 
movements, for he is the one Gram rode yesterday; I 

3 ° 


RANDALIN, FRODE’S DAUGHTER 


found him grazing by the road. Let me go, Sister 
Wynfreda. Bid me farewell and let me go.” 

Clutching at her belt, her arm, her cloak, the nun 
strove desperately to detain her. “ Randalin ! Listen ! 
Alas! how you grieve me by talking after this man- 
ner! Wait, you do not understand. It is not their 
cruelty I fear for you. Child, listen! It is not their 
blows — ” 

But Randalin had wrenched herself free. “ Oh, 
fear, fear, fear ! ” she cried impatiently. “ Fear your 
enemies; fear your friends; fear your shadow! Old 
women are afraid of everything! You will see when 
I come back. No, no, do not look at me like that; I 
do not mean to behave badly toward you, but it will 
become a great misfortune to me if I am hindered; 
it will, in truth. See now; I will kiss you — here — 
where your cheek is softest. I cannot allow you to 
take hold of my cloak again. There! Now lay your 
hand upon my head, as you do with the children when 
you wish them good luck.” 

Because there was nothing else to do, and be- 
cause the thought of doing this gave her some com- 
fort, Sister Wynfreda complied. Laying her trembling 
hands upon the bared black head, she raised her de- 
spairing face to heaven and prayed with all the earn- 
estness that was hers. Then she stood at the gate in 
silence and watched the girl set forth. As Randalin 
turned into the sunny highway, she looked back with 
a brave smile and waved her cap at the faded figure 
under the arch. But the nun, left in the moss-grown 

3i 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


garden, wrapped in the peace of the grave, saw her 
through a blur of tears. 

“ God guard you, my fledgeling,’’ she whispered 
over and over. “ My prayers be as a wall around you. 
My love go with you as a warm hand in your loneli- 
ness. God keep you in safety, my most beloved 
daughter ! ” 


32 


CHAPTER III 


WHERE WAR-DOGS KENNEL 

Openly I now speak 
Because I both sexes know: 

Unstable are men’s minds toward women; 

’T is when we speak most fair, 

When we most falsely think : 

That deceives even the cautious. 

HAVAMAL. 

HIS morning there were 
gbut few travellers upon the 
Watling Street. South of 
the highway the land was 
held by English farmers, 
who would naturally re- 
main under cover while a 
Danish host was in the 
neighborhood; while north 
of the great dividing line 
lay Danish freeholds whose masters might be equally 
likely to see the prudence of being in their watch- 
towers when the English allies were passing. Barred 
across by the shadows of its mighty trees, the great 
road stretched away mile after mile in cool emptiness. 
At rare intervals, a mounted messenger clattered over 
the stones, his hand upon his weapon, his eyes rolling 
sharply in a keen watch of the thicket on either side. 

3 33 



THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Still more rarely, foraging parties swept through the 
morning stillness, lowing cows pricked to a sharp trot 
before them, and squawking fowls slung over their 
broad shoulders. Captured pigs gave back squeal for 
squawk, and the voices of the riders rose in uproari- 
ous laughter until the very echoes revolted and cast 
back the hideous din. 

The approach of the first of these bands caused 
Randalin’s heart to leap and sink under her brave 
green tunic. For all that she could tell from their 
dress, they might as well be English as Danish. If 
her disguise should fail ! As they bore down upon her, 
she drew her horse to the extreme edge of the road 
and turned upon them a pale defiant face. 

On they came. When they caught sight of a sprig 
of a boy drawn up beside the way with his hand rest- 
ing sternly on his knife, they sent up a shout of 
boisterous merriment. The blood roared so loudly in 
Randalin’s ears that she could not understand what 
they said. She jerked her horse’s head toward the 
trees and drove her spur deep into his side. Only as 
he leaped forward and they swept past her, shouting, 
did the words reach home. 

“ Look at the warrior, comrades ! ” “ Hail, Ber- 
serker ! ” “ Scamper, cub, or your nurse will catch 

you!” “Tie some of your hair on your chin, little 
one!” 

As the sound of hoof-beats died away, and the 
nag settled back to his steady jog-trot, the girl un- 
clenched her hands and drew a long breath. 

34 


WHERE WAR-DOGS KENNEL 


“ Though it seems a strange wonder that they 
should not know me for a woman, I think I need give 
myself no further uneasiness. It must be that I am 
very like Fridtjof in looks. It may be that it would 
not be unadvisable now for me to ask advice of the 
next person how I can come to the camp. ,, 

The asking had become a matter of necessity by 
the time she found anyone capable of answering the 
question. Three foreign merchants whom she over- 
took near noon could give her no information, and she 
covered the next five miles without seeing a living 
creature; then it was only a beggar, who crawled out 
of the bushes to offer to sell the child beside him for 
a crust of bread. The petition brought back to Ran- 
dalin her own famished condition so sharply that her 
answer was unnecessarily petulant, and the man dis- 
appeared before the question could even be put to him. 
Two miles more, and nothing was in front of her but 
a flock of ragged blackbirds circling over a trampled 
wheat-field. Already the sun's round chin rested on 
the crest of the farthest hill. In desperation, she 
turned aside and galloped after a mailed horseman 
who was trotting down a clover-sweet lane with a rattle 
and clank that frightened the robins from the hedges. 
He reined in with a guffaw when he saw what mettle 
of blade it was that had accosted him. 

“ Is it your intention to join the army?” he in- 
quired. “ Canute will consider himself in great luck.” 

“ I am desirous to — to tell him something,” Red 
Cloak faltered. 


35 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


His grin vanishing, the man leaned forward alertly. 
“ Is it war news? Of Edric Jarl’s men? ” 

Before her tongue could move, Randalin’s sur- 
prised face had answered. The warrior smote his 
thigh resoundingly. 

“You will be able to tell us tidings we wish to 
know. Since the fight this morning we have been al- 
lowed to do no more than growl at the English dogs 
across the plain, because it was held unadvisable to 
make an onset until the Jarl’s men should increase 
our strength. It is to be hoped they are not far 
behind? ” 

“ You make a mistake,” Randalin began hesita- 
tingly. “ My news does not concern the doings of 
Edric Jarl, but the actions of his man Norman — ” 

A blow across her lips silenced her. 

“ Hold your tongue until you come in to the 
Chief,” the man admonished her, with good-humored 
severity. “ Have you not learned that babbling turns 
to ill, you sprouting twig? And waste no more time 
upon the road, either. Yonder is your shortest way, — 
up that lane between the barley. When you come to 
a burned barn, do you turn to the left and ride straight 
toward the woods; it should happen that an old beech 
stock stands where you come out. Take then the path 
that winds up-hill, and it will bring you to the war 
booths before you can open your foolish mouth thrice. 
Trolls! what a cub to send a message by! But get 
along, now; you will suffer from their temper if they 
think it likely that you have kept them waiting.” He 

36 


WHERE WAR-DOGS KENNEL 


gave the horse a stinging slap upon the flank, that sent 
him forward like a shaft from a bow. 

Snatching up her slackened rein with one hand, 
his rider managed to secure her leaping cap with the 
other; and after the first bounce, she caught the jerky 
gait instinctively and swayed her body into its uneven 
swing. But her heart was all at once a-throb in a wild 
panic. Was this what a boy must expect? This chal- 
lenging brutal downrightness, which made one seem 
to have become a dog that must prove his usefulness 
or be kicked aside? Her spirit felt as bruised as a 
fledgeling fallen upon stony ground. She shivered as 
the old beech stock loomed up before her. 

“ If these other men behave so, it is in my mind 
to tell them that I am a woman,” she decided. “ Since 
they are my own people, no evil can come of their 
knowing; and I dislike the other feeling.” 

The recollection that she had always this escape 
open gave her a new lease of boldness. Her courage 
rose as fast as her body when they began to climb the 
hillside toward the ruddy light that slanted down be- 
tween the tree-trunks. When a sentinel stopped her 
near the top, she faced him with a fairly firm front. 

“ I have war news for King Canute,” she told him 
haughtily; and he let her pass with no more than a 
grin. 

The camp appeared to be strung through the 
whole beech grove that covered the crest of the hill. 
The first sign of it began less than ten yards beyond 
the sentry, where a couple of squatting thralls were 

37 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


skinning a slain deer; and as far as eye could swim 
in the flood of sunset light, the green aisles were dotted 
with scattered groups. Every flat rock had a ring of 
dice-throwers bending over it; every fallen trunk its 
row of idlers. Wherever a cluster of boulders made 
a passable smithy, crowds of sweating giants plied 
hammer and sharpening-stone. The edges of the little 
stream that trickled down to the valley were thronged 
with men bathing gaping wounds and tearing up the 
cool moss to staunch their flowing blood. Never had 
the girl dreamed of such chaos. It gave her the feel- 
ing of having plunged into a whirlpool. She threaded 
her way among the groups as silently as the leaf-padded 
ground would permit. 

She had come in by the back door, but now she 
began to reach the better quarters. Her nose reported 
sooner than her eyes that a meal was in making; and 
a glow of anticipation braced her famished body. Here, 
in this green alcove, preparations were just beginning; 
a white-robed slave knelt by the curling thread of 
smoke and nursed the flickering flame with his breath, 
while his circle of hungry masters pelted him with 
woolly beech-nuts and cursed his slowness. There, a 
dozen yards to the left, the meal was nearly over; be- 
tween the gnarled trunks the fire shone like a red eye ; 
and bursts of merriment and snatches of boisterous 
song marked the beginning of the drinking. 

Sometimes a woman’s lighter laughter would 
mingle with the peal. Sometimes, through the sway- 
ing branches, Randalin caught sight of the flower-fair 

38 


WHERE WAR-DOGS KENNEL 


face of an English girl, bending between the shaggy 
yellow heads of the captors. Once she came upon a 
brawny Viking employing his huge fingers to twine a 
golden chain around a white throat. The girl’s face 
was dimpling bewitchingly as she held aside her shin- 
ing hair. Randalin had an impulse of triumph. 

“ I wish that Sister Wynfreda could see that, now, 
since it is her belief that Danes are always overbearing 
toward their captives,” she told herself. “ This one has 
no appearance of having felt blows or known hard labor. 
She could not have been entertained with greater liber- 
ality in her father’s house — ” 

She broke off suddenly, as the words suggested a 
new train of thought. This girl must have been driven 
from her father’s house by Danes, even as she herself 
had been driven forth by the English. Yet here was 
she eating with her foes, taking gold from their hands ! 
Could she have honor who would thus make friends 
with the slayers of her kin? Randalin watched her 
wonderingly until leaves shut out the picture. 

Another sentinel hailed her, and she gave him 
absently her customary answer. He pointed to a great 
striped tent of red and white linen, adorned with flut- 
tering streamers and guarded by more sentries in shin- 
ing mail ; and she rode toward it in a daze. 

More revellers sprawled under these trees, and she 
looked at them curiously. The women here did not 
seem to be amusing themselves so well. One was 
weeping ; and one — a slip of a girl with a face like a 
rose — was trying vainly to rise from her place beside 

39 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


a drunken warrior, who held her hands and strove to 
pull her lips down to his wine-stained mouth. In imagi- 
nation Randalin felt again Norman’s arm around her 
waist, and a wild pity was quickened in her. This 
was worse than drudgery, w T orse than blows! For the 
credit of Danish warriors, it was well that Sister Wyn- 
freda could not see this. 

Again her own words raised a startling apparition. 
What had been the Sister’s last cry of warning? “ It is 
not their cruelty I fear for you. Child, listen! It is 
not their blows — ” Could it be possible that this was 
what — 

Like a merciless answer came a scream from the 
girl, — a short piercing cry of horror and loathing and 
agonized appeal as she was drawn down upon the leer- 
ing face. At that cry, childhood’s blind trust died for- 
ever in Randalin. As she rode past the pair, with 
clenched hands and flashing eyes, she knew without 
reasoning that tortures would not tear from her the 
secret of her disguise. 

When the sentinel before the tent challenged her 
roughly, it was her tongue, not her brain, that an- 
swered him. 

“ I have war news for the King.” 

In a twinkling he had dropped his spear, plucked 
her from her saddle, and was marching her toward the 
entrance by her collar. 

“ In the Troll’s name, get in to the Chief, and let 
nothing hinder you ! ” he growled. “ From your snail’s 
pace I got the idea that you had come a-begging. Get 

40 


WHERE WAR-DOGS KENNEL 


in, and set your tongue wagging as speedily as you 
can! Why do you draw back? I tell you to make 
haste ! ” 

Before she could so much as catch her breath, he 
had raised the tent-flap, pushed her bodily through the 
entrance, and dropped the linen door behind her. 


4i 


CHAPTER IV 


WHEN ROYAL BLOOD IS YOUNG BLOOD 

The mind only knows 
What lies near the heart ; 

That alone is conscious of our affections. 

No disease is worse 
To a sensible man 

Than not to be content with himself. 

HAVAMAL. 

HREE richly dressed war- 
. riors, clinking golden gob- 
lets across a table, — so much 
Randalin caught in her first 
glance. On the spot where 
the sentinel had released 
her she stopped, stock-still, 
and with eyes bent on the 
ground tremblingly awaited 
the royal attention. 
Clink-clank, — the golden goblet lips continued 
their noisy kissing. The hum of the low-toned voices 
droned on without interruption. Minute after minute 
dragged by. She ventured to shift her weight and steal 
an upward glance. 

Her first thought was that a king’s tent was very 
like a trader’s booth. Spears and banners and gold- 

42 





WHEN ROYAL BLOOD IS YOUNG BLOOD 

bossed shields decorated the walls, while the reed- 
strewn ground was littered with furs and armor, with 
jewelled altar-cloths and embroidered palls and wonder- 
ful gold-laced garments. The rude temporary benches 
were spread with splendid covers of purple and green, 
upon which silver lilies and gold-eyed peacocks had 
been wrought with exquisite skill. And the rough- 
hewn table bore such treasures as plunderers dream of 
when their sleeping-bags are lying the most comfort- 
ably, — ivory relique caskets, out of which the sacred 
bones had been unceremoniously turned, gemmed 
chalices from earls* feasting-halls, and amber chains 
and silver mirrors and strings of pearls from their 
ladies’ bowers. Randalin’s gaze lingered, dazzled, 
then slowly rose to examine the master of all this 
wealth. 

He was not so easy to pick out. Of the three men 
around the table, only one was a graybeard; and of 
the two striplings left, either might have been the son 
of Sven of Denmark. Both were finely formed; both 
were dressed with royal splendor, and the hair of each 
fell from under a jewelled circlet in uncut lengths of 
shining fairness. The hair of the shorter one, though, 
was finer; and no red tainted the purity of its gold. 
When one came to look at it, it was like a royal cloak. 
Perhaps he might be the King! She wished he would 
raise his face from his hands, that she might see it. 
Then she noticed that his shoulders lacked the breadth 
of his companion’s by as much as a palm’s width ; and 
her mind wavered. Surely so great a king as Canute 

43 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


must be broader-shouldered than any of his subjects! 
This youth was hardly brawny at all ; as Vikings went, 
he was even slender. She turned her attention to the 
other man. He was big enough, certainly; the fist 
that he was waving in the air was like nothing so much 
as a sledge-hammer, and there was a likeness to the 
Jotuns in his florid coarse-featured face. 

As she watched it, Randalin felt a coldness creep 
over her. His great jaws were like the jowl of a 
mastiff. His thick-lipped mouth — what was it that 
made that so terrible, even in smiling? Watching it 
with the fascination of terror, it occurred to her to 
endow him with the appetite of the drunken warrior 
at the table outside the tent. Suppose, just as they 
stood now, he should take the fancy to turn and kiss 
her lips; would anything stop him? In the drawing of 
a breath, her overwrought nerves had painted the pic- 
ture so clearly that she was sick with horror. Sister 
Wynfreda’s red-hot iron would not keep him back, in- 
stinct told her. That sacrifice of beauty had not been 
simple-minded; it had been the one alternative. The 
girl’s light-hearted boldness went from her in a gasp. 
Her shaking limbs gave way beneath her, so that she 
sank on the nearest bench and cowered there, panting. 

Though the men were too intent to notice her, in 
some sub-conscious way her moving seemed to rouse 
them. Their discussion had been growing gradually 
louder; now the bearded man and the young Jotun 
rose suddenly and faced their companion, whose voice 
became audible in an obstinate mutter, — 

44 


WHEN ROYAL BLOOD IS YOUNG BLOOD 


“ Nevertheless, I doubt that it was wise to join 
hands with an English traitor.” 

The older man said in a tone of slowly gathering 
anger, “ I told you to make the bargain, and I stand at 
the back of my counsels. Have you become like the 
wind, which tries every quarter of the sky because it 
knows not its own mind?” 

While the young man warned in his heavy voice, 
“ Y ou will have your will in this as in everything, 
King Canute; but I tell you that if you keep the bar- 
gain, you will act against my advice.” 

Randalin had been mistaken in her deductions. 
It was not the brawny body that was King of the 
Danes; the leader’s spirit lodged in the slender frame 
of the youth with the cloak of yellow hair. 

He raised from his hands now a face of boyish 
sullenness, and sat glaring over his clenched fists at 
his counsellors. 

“ Certainly it would become a great misfortune to 
me if I should act against the advice of Rothgar Lod- 
broksson,” he made stinging answer. “ He is as wise 
and long-sighted as though he had eaten a dragon’s 
heart. It was he who gave me the advice, when the 
English broke faith, to vent my rage upon the host- 
ages. Men have not yet ceased to lift their noses at 
me for the unkingliness of the deed.” His eyes blazed 
at the memory. They were not pleasant eyes when he 
was angry; the blue seemed to fade from them until 
they were two shining colorless pools in his brown 
face. ' 


45 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


The son of Lodbrok shrugged his huge shoulders 
in stolid resignation; but the wrinkled forehead of the 
older man became somewhat smoother. There was 
nothing Jotun-like about his long, lean features, yet 
his expression was little pleasanter on that account. 
From under his lowering shaggy brows he appeared 
to see without being seen; and one distrusted his hid- 
den eyes as a traveller in the open distrusts a skulker 
in the thicket. 

He said in his measured voice, “ In that matter my 
opinion stands with Canute. When bloodshed is un- 
necessary, it becomes a drawback. Craft is greatly to 
be preferred. One does not cross deep snow by stamp- 
ing through it on iron-shod feet; one slides over it on 
skees. ,, 

Over the brown fists, the fierce bright eyes bent 
themselves upon him in his turn. The biting young 
voice said, “ It is likely that Thorkel the Tall speaks 
from experience. It stands in my memory how well 
craft served him when he had deserted my father for 
Ethelred and then became tired of the Englishman. 
To procure himself peace, he was forced to creep back 
to my feet like a dog that has been kicked. Was there 
gold enough in his bribe to regild his fame? ” 

The gnarled old face of Thorkel the Tall grew 
livid; growling in his grizzled beard, his hand moved 
instinctively toward his sword. But Rothgar caught 
his arm with a boisterous laugh. 

“Slowly, old wolf!” he admonished. “Never snarl 
at the snapping of the cub you have raised.” 

46 


WHEN ROYAL BLOOD IS YOUNG BLOOD 


The King had not moved at the threatening ges- 
ture, and he did not move now, but he echoed the laugh 
bitterly. 

“ In that, you say more truth than you know, 
foster-brother. He is a wolf, and I am a wolf’s cub, 
and you are no better. We are all a pack of ravening 
beasts, we Northmen, that have no higher ambition 
than to claw and use our teeth. Talk of high-minded- 
ness to such — bah ! ” He flung his arms apart in 
loathing; then, in a motion as boyishly weary as it 
was boyishly petulant, crossed them on the table be- 
fore him and pillowed his head upon them. 

His companions did not seem to be unused to such 
outbursts. Rothgar appeared to find it more amusing 
than anything else, for his mouth expanded slowly in 
a grin. A snort of impatience distended the nostrils of 
Thorkel the Tall. 

“ At such times as these,” he said, “ are brought to 
my mind the words of Ulf Jarl, that a man does not 
really stand well upon his legs until he has lived twenty- 
five winters.” 

Up came the young King’s yellow head. There 
was no question now about his temper. A spot of 
fiery red marked each cheek-bone, and his colorless 
eyes were points of blazing light. 

“ Better is it to stand unsteadily upon two legs 
than to go naturally upon four,” he retorted. “ If I 
also am a beast, at least there is a man’s mind in me 
that tells me to loathe myself for being so. Even as 
I loathe you — both of you — and all your howling 

47 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


pack! Make me no answer or, by the head of Odin, 
you shall feel my fangs! You say that my will is like 
the wind’s will. Can you not see why, dull brutes that 
you are? Because it is not my will, but yours, — now 
Rothgar’s beast-fierceness, now your low-minded craft. 
Because I am not content with myself, I listen to you. 
And you — you — Oh, leave me, leave me, before I 
lose my human nature and go mad like a dog ! Leave — 
You laugh! ” As he caught sight of Rothgar, he inter- 
rupted himself with a roar. His hand shot to his belt 
and plucking forth the jewelled knife that hung there, 
hurled it, a glittering streak, at the grinning face. If 
it had reached home, one of Rothgar’s eyes would have 
gone out in darkness. 

But the son of Lodbrok had known his royal foster- 
brother too long to be taken by surprise. Throwing up 
a wooden platter like a shield, he caught the quivering 
blade in its bottom, whence he drew it forth with good- 
humored composure. 

“ If you wish to give a friend a present, King, 
you should not throw it at him so angrily,” he sug- 
gested. “ Had you given me the sheath too, your gift 
would have been doubly dear.” 

The fiery spots in Canute’s cheeks deepened and 
spread. He turned away without answering, and stood 
a long time beating his fingers on the table in a sharp 
tattoo. 

What does it mean, the pause that follows the 
storm, when Nature’s accumulated discontent has 
vented itself in a passionate outbreak? The trees 

48 


WHEN ROYAL BLOOD IS YOUNG BLOOD 


stand motionless, with hanging heads; the blue of the 
clearing sky is divinely tender; under the spangling 
drops, the flowers look up like tear-filled eyes. Does 
it mean repentance, or only exhaustion? 

Gradually the color flowed back to the young 
King’s eyes and softened them ; gradually his mouth re- 
laxed from its fierce lines and drooped in bitter curves. 
When at last his fingers stopped their nervous beat, it 
was to unfasten the sheath of chased gold which was 
attached to his waist, and stretch it out to Rothgar. 

“ Have it your own way,” he said gravely. “ It 
is right that I pay some fine; I have a troll’s temper. 
Take the sheath. But do not make the mistake again 
of laughing at me because you cannot understand me. 
But one person may do that and live ; and that person 
is a woman, and my wife. . . . There is a strange feel- 
ing in my heart that we have begun to travel different 
paths, you and I, — and that it is because we no longer 
walk on the same level of ground, that we no longer 
see any object in the same light. . . . And my mind 
tells me that in time to come your path will lead you 
down into the valley, . . . and my road will take me 
up the mountain-side, . . . until even our voices shall 
no longer reach across.” He came out of his dreaming 
abruptly. “ It is not worth while to speak further. I 
do not blame my foster-father that he is lifting the 
corner of his mouth at me. And you — you think I 
am talking in my sleep. Leave me, as I ordered you. 
There is no unfriendliness in my mind at this, but I 
can command myself no further. Go.” 

4 49 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE! 

, Rothgar said, with some approach to format courtesy, 
“ I ask you to pardon it that I have done what you dis- 
like, for I wish that the least of all the world. And I 
give you thanks for your gift.” Their hands clasped 
strongly as the trinket passed from grasp to grasp. 

Then the sage and the soldier turned and strode 
past the cowering figure of Randalin and out of the 
linen doorway. 


CHAPTER V 


BEFORE THE KING 


Know if thou hast a friend 
Whom thou little trustest 
Yet wouldst good from him derive 
Thou shouldst speak him fair, 

But think craftily, 

And leasing pay with lying. 

HAVAMAL. 

HEN the curtain had fal- 
len behind his advisers, the 
young King threw himself 
[back upon his rude high- 
seat and rested motionless 
among its cushions, his head 
hanging heavily upon his 
Ibreast. 

Crouching on her bench 
[near the door, Randalin 
watched him as a fly caught in a web watches the ap- 
proaching spider. She had forgotten her errand; she 
had forgotten her disguise; she had forgotten where 
she was; her one conscious emotion was fear. Her 
eyes followed his roving glance from spear to banner, 
from floor to ceiling, in terrible anticipation. It ap- 

5i 



THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 

proached her; it turned aside; it passed above her, 
hesitated, sank, touched her! Ashen-white, she stag- 
gered to her feet and faced him. 

A lithe boyish figure with wide boyish eyes and 
a tanned boyish face, — Canute gazed incredulously ; 
rubbed his eyes and looked again. 

“In the Troll’s name, who are you?” he ejacu- 
lated. “How came you here?” 

The pale lips moved, but no sound came from 
them. 

Their fruitless twitching seemed to irritate him. 
He made a petulant gesture toward the half-filled gob- 
let. “ Why do you stand there making mouths? Drink 
that and get a man’s voice into your throat, if you have 
anything to say to me.” 

“ A man’s voice ! ” The girl stared at him. “ A 
man's voice?” Then, like lungfuls of fresh air, it en- 
tered into her that she was not really the naked fledge- 
ling she felt herself. She was in the toils, surely, but 
there was a shell around her. Glad to hide her face for 
a moment, she seized the goblet and drained it slowly 
to the last drop. If only she could remember just how 
Fridtjof had borne himself ! As she swallowed the last 
mouthful, a recollection came to her of the thrall-women 
grumbling over Fridtjof’s wine-stained tunics ; and she 
carefully drew her sleeve across her mouth as she set 
down the cup. 

Leaning back in his seat, the King took frowning 
measure of his guest, from the toe of her spurred riding- 
boot to the top of the green cap which she had forgot- 

52 


BEFORE THE KING 


ten to remove. His mood seemed wavering between 
annoyance and amusement; a word could decide the 
balance. With her last swallow he repeated his 
challenge. 

“ Are you capable now of giving me any reason 
why I should not have you flogged from the camp? Is 
it your opinion that because I choose to behave fool- 
ishly before my friends, I am desirous to have tale- 
bearing boys listening? ” 

“ Boys ” again ! Randalin’s sinking spirit rallied 
at the assurance as her fainting body had revived 
under the rich warmth of the mead. 

She managed to stammer out, “ I entreat you not 
to be angry, Lord King. It was the fault of the man 
on guard that I came in as I did. And I did not un- 
derstand six of the words you spoke, — I beseech you 
to believe it.” 

That she had in truth been too frightened for in- 
telligent eavesdropping, the remaining pallor of her 
face made it easy to believe. The scales tipped ever so 
little. 

“ Did you think you had fallen into a bear pit?” 
the King asked with a faint smile, that sharpened 
swiftly to bitterness. “ After all, it would matter little 
what anyone told of me. Without doubt your kin 
have already taught you to call me thrall-bred and wit- 
less. Little more can be said.” 

That from the warrior whose foot was already 
planted on the neck of England! In her surprise, 
Randalin’s eyes met his squarely. “ By no means, 

S3 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


King Canute; my father called you the highest-minded 
man in the world.” 

The young leader flushed scarlet, flushed till 
he felt the burning, and averted his face to hide 
it. He said in a low voice, “ Many things have 
been told of me that I count for naught, but this — 
this has not been said of me before. Tell me his 
name.” 

“ He was called Frode, the Dane of Avalcomb.” 
The red mouth trembled a little. “ He is dead now. 
He was slain last night, by Norman Leofwinesson, 
who is Edric Jarl’s thane.” 

As both horseman and sentinel had started at that 
name, so now the King straightened into alertness, for- 
getting everything else. 

“ Leofwinesson? What know you of him or his 
Jarl? Where are they? When saw you them?” 

“ Last night ; when they lay drunk in my father’s 
castle at Avalcomb, after — ” 

“Avalcomb? Near St. Alban’s? The swine!” 
The monarch was a soldier now, shooting his ques- 
tions like arrows. “ After I bade them at Gillingham 
come straight to me! How many were they? Where 
is the Jarl? ” 

“ He was not with them. It was Norman of 
Baddeby who led, and he had no more than five-and- 
fifty men. It was spoken among them that they would 
join you at sunset to-day — ” 

Canute’s hand shot out and gripped her arm and 
shook it. “ You know this for certain? I will have 

54 



‘ I will have your tongue if you lie to me.’ 





















BEFORE THE KING 


your tongue if you lie to me! You are sure that 
they intend coming, — that it is not their intention 
to play me false and return to Edmund? ” His 
voice was stern, his gaze mercilessly direct. An 
hour before, the girl would have shrunk from them 
both. 

One can learn life-lessons in an hour. She faced 
the roughness now as one faces a rush of bracing north 
wind. “ I know what I heard them say, Lord King. 
They said that Edric Jarl had marched on to St. Alban’s 
to lie there over-night. Leofwinesson stopped at Aval- 
comb because he wished to vent his spite upon my 
father. It was their intention to meet at the city gate 
at noon and come on to join you. They will be here 
before the sun is set.” 

Canute released her arm to reach for his goblet. 
“ I wish I could know it for certain,” he muttered. 
“ But it is as the saying has it, ‘ Though they fight 
and quarrel among themselves, the eagles will mate 
again/ ” He looked at her with a half-smile as he 
refilled his cup, motioning toward the other flagon. 
“ Fill up, and we will drink a toast to their loyalty 
and to your beard; they appear to be equally in need 
of encouragement.” Draining it off, he sat staring 
down into the dregs, twirling the stem thoughtfully 
between his fingers. 

By the time she had shifted her weight twice for 
each foot, the petitioner ventured to recall him. 

“ It gives me some hope, to hear what you say 
about suspecting Edric Jarl,” she said timidly; “ for 

55 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


that makes it appear more likely that you will be will- 
ing to give me justice on his man.” 

“ Justice ?” The King’s mind came back to her 
slowly, as from an immense distance. “ By Thor, I 
had forgotten! There have not been so many to me 
on that errand. . . . Though I take it well that you 
should trust me. ... Yes, certainly; I will be king- 
like once. Stand here before me, while I question 
you.” 

She caught her breath rather sharply as she stepped 
forward. Would she be able to tell a straight story? 
She stood with fingers interlacing nervously. 

“ Tell me first how you are called? ” 

“ I am called Fridtjof Frodesson.” 

“ Frode of Avalcomb ! Now I know where I have 
heard that name; my father spoke it often, and always 
with great respect. It will go hard with me if I must 
return an unfavorable answer to his son. Tell me how 
his death was brought about.” 

Randalin thrust the sobs back from her throat ; the 
tears back from her eyes. Only a clear head could de- 
liver her out of the snare. She began slowly : “ Leof- 
winesson set upon him last night, at the gate of the 
castle, and slew him. The Englishman had long been 
covetous of Avalcomb, so that even his fear of you was 
not so great as his greed. He had five-and-fifty men, 
and my father but twelve — besides me ; he — we — 
had just come in from hunting. Then he rode over my 
father’s body into the castle.” She stopped uncertainly 
to glance at her listener. 


56 


BEFORE THE KING 


The brightness of his eyes startled her, though they 
were not turned in her direction. They were blazing 
down into the cup that he was turning and pinching 
between his fingers. He said, half as though to him- 
self: “Vermin! What would I give if I might take 
them in my teeth and shake them like the filth-fed rats 
they are ! Ten hundred such do not reach the value of 
one finger of a warrior like Frode! I knew that the 
fetters of Thorkel’s craftiness would pinch me some- 
where — ” He broke off and flung the goblet from 
him, burying his hands in his yellow hair. “ How I 
hate them ! ” he breathed between his teeth. “ How 
I hate their smooth-tongued Jarl, and all their treach- 
erous hides! Oh, for the day when I no longer need 
their aid ; when I am free to strike ! ” The joy of his 
face was a terrible thing to hold in one’s memory. 

Perhaps he saw its awfulness reflected in the wide 
blue eyes, for he checked himself abruptly. When he 
spoke again, he had himself well in hand. 

“ I act like a fool to let you hear my ravings. 
Poor cub! it is likely you will call me a worse name 
when you find out how I am hindered! Yet go on and 
tell me the rest. How comes it that you escaped 
unharmed? ” 

With Gram’s experience to follow, it was not hard 
to frame that answer. “ They knocked me on the head 
with a spear-butt and left me for dead. When I got 
my senses again, I found my way to the nuns of St. 
Mildred’s; and they gave me food, and I rode hither.” 

“ It is the Troll’s luck ! I — yet, go on. The day 
57 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


will come! Did they further harm within the castle? 
Have you women-kin?” 

Randalin hesitated. Would it not be safer if she 
could deny altogether the existence of a daughter of 
Frode? But no, that was not possible, in the face of 
what Norman might reveal. She began very, very 
carefully : “ It happened that my mother died before 
we came to Avalcomb; and my father had but one 
daughter. She was called Randalin. I did not see 
what became of her, for I was outside ; but I think that 
she is dead. A — her thrall-woman told me that Leof- 
winesson pursued her to a chamber in the wall. And 
— and because she could not escape from him — she — 
she threw herself from the window, and the stones 
below caused her death. ,, 

The King’s hands clenched convulsively. “ It is 
like them! ” he muttered. “ It has happened as I sup- 
posed. If the master be like his men, I ask you in 
what their God is to be preferred to ours? Have no 
fear but that I will avenge your kinswoman. Those of 
her own blood-ties could do no more. And Frode also. 
You need not wait long for me when the day comes; 
the last hair of the otter-skin shall be covered, though 
I take from them the Ring itself. You shall see! Have 
patience, and you shall see ! ” 

Upon burning ears the word “ patience ” falls 
coldly. 

“ Patience ! ” the child of Frode repeated. 

Perhaps in days gone by the young King himself 
had rebelled at the tyranny of that word. Perhaps the 

58 


BEFORE THE KING 


smart of its scourge was still upon him. He put forth 
a kindly hand and drew the boy down beside him. 

“ Listen, young one,” he said, “ and do not blame 
me for what I cannot help. Had I come hither only to 
get property and go away again, as Northmen before 
me have come, it would not matter to me whom I 
killed, and I would slay Leofwinesson more gladly 
than I would eat ; may the Giant take me if I lie ! But 
I have come to the Island to set up my seat-pillars and 
get myself land. I think no one guesses how much I 
have the ambition at heart; even to me it appears a 
strange wonder. But it is true that I look upon the 
fair rolling meadows with such eyes of love that when 
it is necessary that I should set fire to them, it is as 
though I had laid the torch to my hair. And because 
of that, in order that I be not kept destroying them 
until they are not worth the having, I have made a 
bargain with Edric Jarl, who is dissatisfied with his 
king, that we are to support each other in the game. 
There it is all open to you. Leofwinesson is the man 
of Edric. Until such time as I get the kingship firmly 
in my hands, it would be unadvisable for me to reckon 
with him though he had slain my foster-brother. You 
see? It is the way the Fates order things. I must 
submit to them, though I am a king. Can you not, 
then, bend your head without shame, and wait with 
me? ” 

Reasoning was lost on Randalin. The bitterness 
of failure had swept over her and maddened her. Was 
she mistaken, then, about everything? Could those 

59 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


trembling old women behind the broken wall read the 
world like witches? Was everyone false or a beast? 
Oh, how her father had been wronged! She shook off 
the King’s hand and faced him with blazing eyes, seek- 
ing for words that should bite like her thoughts. Then 
she became conscious that a word would precipitate a 
flood of hysterical tears, to the eternal disgrace of her 
warrior kin. All that was left for her was to get away 
without speaking. Out in the woods there would be 
no one to see; and the grass would hide the quiver- 
ing of her lips. She put up her hand now to hide it 
and, struggling to her feet, began groping toward the 
door. 

She did not stop when Canute’s voice called after 
her, — not until she had reached the entrance, and the 
rattle of crossing spears, without, had told her that her 
way was barred. Then she whirled back with a sharp 
cry. 

“ Let me go ! I hate you ! Let me go ! ” 

He did not bid his guards kill her, as she half ex- 
pected. Instead, he said patiently, “ I foresaw that you 
would take it ill; there is the greatest excuse for you. 
In your place I should be equally unruly. Indeed, there 
is a likeness about our luck, which causes my heart to 
go out to you as it has done to no one else. I will grant 
your boon in time to come; so sure as I live, I will. 
And until then, since all your stock has been cut off, 
I will be your guardian and you shall be my ward, as 
though you were my own brother. Come, sit here, and 
I will tell you.” 


60 


BEFORE THE KING 


She repulsed him sharply. “ No, no, you shall do 
nothing for me! I am going back. I ask you to let 
me go.” 

“ Let you go, to starve under a hedge? ” 

“ I shall not starve ; Avalcomb is mine.” 

“ What food will that put in your mouth, since 
Leofwinesson has conquered it and driven out your 
servants and set his own in their place? ” 

Her heart sickened within her. Once more the 
impulse came to creep away, like a wounded animal, 
and fight it out alone. She turned again to the door. 

“ I will starve, then. Let me go.” 

Leaning at his ease in the great chair, the young 
King regarded his ward thoughtfully. 

“ It is not possible that the son of Frode the Fear- 
less should be a coward,” he said at last ; “ but you are 
over-peevish, boy. That you have never known gov- 
ernment is easily seen. Listen now to the truth of the 
matter. If you were a maiden, it would be easy for me 
to — Are you listening?” He paused, for the slim 
figure had suddenly become so statue-like that he sus- 
pected it of plotting another attack upon the door. 

The boy answered very low, “Yes, Lord King, I 
am listening.” 

Canute went on again : “ I say that if you were a 
maiden, — if you were your sister, to tell it shortly, — 
I could easily dispose of you in marriage. Thus would 
you get protection, and your father’s castle would gain 
a strong arm to fight for it. I would wed you to my 
foster-brother, Rothgar Lodbroksson, and thus bring 

61 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


good to both of — Are you finding fault with that 
also? ” 

But the lad stood before him like a stone. If a 
faint cry had come from him, it was not repeated ; and 
there was nothing offensive about a hidden face and 
shaking limbs. 

The King continued more gently : “ But since you 
were so simple as to be born a boy, such good luck is 
not to be expected. It is the best that I can do to offer 
you to become my ward and follow me as my page, 
until the sword’s game has decided between me and 
Edmund of England. But I do not know where your 
ambition is if that does not content you. There are 
lads in Denmark who would give their tongues for the 
chance. What say you, Fridtjof the Bold? ” 

For a time it looked as if “ Fridtjof the Bold ” did 
not know what to say. He stood without raising his 
hanging head or moving a muscle. Silence filled the 
tent, while from outside leaked in the noise of the 
revel. Then, through that noise or above it, there 
became audible the notes of far-away horns. Edric 
Jarl was fulfilling his pledge. Cheers answered the 
blast. An exclamation broke from the King’s lips, 
and he leaped up. At that moment, “ Fridtjof the 
Bold ” fell at his feet with clasped hands and suppli- 
cating eyes. 

“ Let me go, Lord King,” he besought passion- 
ately. “ Let me go, and I will ask nothing further of 
you. I will never trouble you again. Let me go ! — 
only let me go ! ” 


6 2 


BEFORE THE KING 


Canute of Denmark is not to be blamed that he 
stamped with exhausted patience. 

“ Go into the hands of the Trolls ! ” he swore. 
And again, “In the Fiend’s name!” And at last, 
“ By the head of Odin, it would serve you well did I 
take you at your word! It would serve you right did 
I turn you out to starve. Were it not for your father’s 
sake, and for the sake of my own honor, I vow I would ! 
Now hearken to this.” Bending, he picked the boy up 
by his collar and shook him. “ Listen now to this, and 
understand that you cannot move me by the breadth of 
a hair. I shall not let you go, and you shall be my 
ward, whether you will or no. And if you run away, 
soldiers shall go after you and bring you back, as often 
as you run. And if you answer me now or anger me 
further — but I will not say that, for it is your mis- 
fortune that makes you unruly, and you are weak- 
spirited from hunger. Take this bread now for your 
meal, and that bench yonder for your bed, and trouble 
me no more to-night. I would not be hard upon you, 
yet it would be advisable for you to remember that I 
have sufficient temper for one tent. Go as I bid you. 
I must meet with the Jarl. Go ! Do you heed my 
orders? ” 

Only one answer was possible. After a moment 
the page gave it in a low voice. 

“ Yes, Lord King,” he whispered, and crept away 
to his corner. 


63 


CHAPTER VI 


THE TRAINING OF FRIDTJOF THE PAGE 


A foolish man 
Is all night awake, 

Pondering over everything ; 

He then grows tired, 

And when morning comes 
All is lament, as before. 

HAVAMAL. 



HO that has youth and a 
healthy body is not made 
a new being by a night of 
dreamless slumber? What 
young heart is so despair- 
that to waken into a 
day does not bring 
courage? Wakened by the 
sun’s caress, to the morning 
song of blowing trees, Ran- 
dalin faced her future as became the kinswoman of 


warriors. 

“ I do not know why it was that fear crept into my 
breast last night,” she told herself severely, when the 
first wave of strangeness and grief had broken over 
her, and she had come up again into the sparkling air. 
“ Great dangers have threatened me, but I have escaped 

64 


THE TRAINING OF FRIDTJOF THE PAGE 

them all with great luck; it is poor-spirited of me to 
despair. And it must be that witches had thinned my 
blood with water that I should have thought of run- 
ning away. To do that would be to lose my revenge 
forever. I should become a creature without honor, 
like the girl with the necklace. To stay is no less than 
my duty. If I think all the time of Fridtjof, it is cer- 
tain that I can hide it that I am a girl.” Turning in 
her furry bed, she rose cautiously upon her elbow and 
looked about. 

The tent was empty, though scattered furs along 
the benches showed where sleepers might have rested. 
But from outside, a clatter of hurrying feet and ex- 
cited voices broke suddenly upon her. Did it mean 
a battle? She sat up, straining eye and ear. The 
jubilant voices shouted greetings that just missed 
being intelligible. The sun, glancing from moving 
weapons, flashed through the doorway in fantastic 
shapes. 

While she was trying to unravel it all, one pair of 
the hurrying feet halted before the entrance. After a 
muttered word with the sentinel, they came on and 
brought the son of Lodbrok into view. 

The girl started up with a gasp of alarm, then 
made the strange discovery that she was no longer 
afraid of him. Though he showed against the linen 
wall as brawny and big of jowl as he had loomed up 
the night before, she found herself moved only to dis- 
like. What had been the matter last night? Under- 
standing nothing of the clairvoyant power of sharp- 

5 65 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


ened nerves, she set it down to cowardice, and put on 
an extra swagger now as her eyes met his. 

Rothgar surveyed the sprig of defiance with no 
more than a perfunctory interest. “ It seems that you 
are the son of Frode the Dane,” he said in his heavy 
voice. “Frode was a mighty raven-feeder; for his 
sake I am going to support you until you can go well 
on your legs. Have you had anything to eat? ” 

As she shook her head, Randalin’s heart rather 
softened toward him. But it hardened again when the 
thralls had brought the food, and he had sat down and 
begun to share it. Seen in a strong light, his rich tunic 
proved to be foul with beer stains, while his great 
hands reeked with grease. His thick lips, his heavy 
breathing — bah, he was revolting! Before she had 
finished the meal, she had come to the conclusion that 
she hated him. 

Perhaps it was as well that there was something 
to add firmness to her bearing. As he swallowed his 
last mouthful of food, Rothgar said abruptly, “ Canute 
has put your training into my hands. It is his will that 
I find out how much skill you have wfith weapons.” 

It was nothing more than she should have ex- 
pected, yet it came upon her with the suddenness of a 
blow. She could only stammer, “Weapons?” 

The Jotun’s voice rumbled hideously as he talked 
into his goblet. “ Have you the accomplishment to 
wield a battle-axe or throw a spear? Can you shoot 
straight? ” 

“ No,” she faltered. 


66 


THE TRAINING OF FRIDTJOF THE PAGE 

He rolled his eyes around at her as he threw back 
his head to catch the last drop that clung to the golden 
rim. “ Can you handle a sword? ” 

Randalin hesitated, uncertain how far her idle play 
at fencing with her brother would bear her out; she 
provided as many loop-holes as she could devise. “ I 
think you will find my skill slight. I have — I have 
grown so fast that I lack strength in my arms. And I 
have not exercised myself as much as I should have 
done.” 

“ It is in my mind that you have been a lazy cub,” 
the warrior pronounced deliberate sentence, as he set 
down his goblet. “ It is easily seen that Frode has 
been over-gentle with you. But you will pay now 
for your laziness, by receiving a cut each time I pass 
your guard. Stand forth, and show what your skill is 
worth. This sword will not be too heavy.” Selecting 
the smallest of the jewelled blades upon the floor, he 
thrust it into her hands. 

It is good to have in one's veins the liquid fire of 
the North, blood to which the presence of peril is like 
the touch of the Ice King to water. At the first clash 
of the blades, strange tingling fires began to flash 
through Randalin, — and then a hardness, that burnt 
while it froze. The first pass, her hands had parried 
seemingly by their own instinct; now she flung back 
her tumbling curls and proceeded to give those hands 
the aid of her eyes. They were marvellously quick 
eyes; for Fridtjof's thrusts, consulting no rule but his 
own will, had required lightning to follow them and 

67 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


something like mind-reading to anticipate them. Three 
times her blade met Rothgar’s squarely, and deftly 
turned it aside. The big warrior gave a grunt of ap- 
proval and tried a more complicated pass. Her back- 
ward leap, the sudden doubling of her body, and the 
excited clawing of her free hand, were not graceful 
swordsmanship, certainly, but her steel was in the 
right place. The next instant, she even drew a little 
clink from one of the Jotun’s silver buttons. 

As she was recovering herself, she felt something 
like a pin prick her wrist; and she wondered vaguely 
what brooch had become unfastened. But she gave it 
scant attention for the big blade was threatening her 
from a new direction. She leaped to meet it, and for 
the next minute was kept turning, twisting, dodg- 
ing, till her breath began to come in gasps, and her 
exhausted hand to relax its hold. Her weapon 
was almost falling from it by the time the son of 
Lodbrok lowered his point. Imitating him, she stood 
leaning on her sword, making futile gasps after her 
lost breath. 

A grin slowly wrinkled his face as he watched 
her. “ It appears that one who is no bigger around 
than a willow twig may be capable of a berserk rage,” 
he said. “ Do you not feel it that you are wounded? ” 

Following his eyes down to her hand, she found 
blood trickling from her sleeve. Oh, and pain! Now 
that she had wakened to it — pain ! pricking, stinging, 
stabbing. Dropping her sword, she caught at her 
wrist. 


68 


THE TRAINING OF FRIDTJOF THE PAGE 

“ How did it happen? I thought a pin had pricked 
me!” 

Roaring with laughter, he caught her under the 
arms and tossed her in the air. 

“ A pin ! ” he shouted. “ A pin ! That is Frode 
himself! A beard on your chin, and you also will be 
a feeder of wolves! For that you shall have a share in 
the battle. I swear it by the hilt of the Hanger ! ” 

For the moment, the girl forgot her wound and 
hung limp in the great hands. “The battle?” she 
gasped. “I — I fight?” 

Roaring afresh, the Jotun gave her another jubi- 
lant toss. “ You blustering field-mouse ! Showing your 
teeth already? Who knows? If you meet a blind Eng- 
lishman without a weapon, you may even kill him. 
Here,” he tumbled her roughly to the ground, “ tie 
up your pin-scratch and then come after me. I must 
go up yonder to Canute, under the oak tree. If you are 
too tired to wield the sword, tie your hand to the hilt, 
and no man shall have a better will to do harm to the 
English. Frode the Dane will experience great pride 
when he looks out of Valhalla to-day.” Putting out 
one great hand, he patted her soft curls as though 
she were some shaggy dog, then hurried out to his 
chief. 

It was a respite to be alone, and she accepted it 
gratefully, sinking among the cushions with closed eyes 
and a hand on her throbbing wrist. But it was only a 
respite; she never for a moment lost sight of that. 
The battle must be faced, and faced boldly. One word 

69 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


of reluctance would be the surest betrayal of her secret. 
And betrayal meant — Rothgar ! She shivered as she 
fancied she still felt his greasy touch upon her hair. 
To become his property that he might even kiss! With 
a gasp of relief, she turned her thoughts back to the 
battle. 

After all, it was not unthinkable. Her riding would 
never betray her ; and in the confusion, who would no- 
tice whether or not she used her sword? She did grow 
a little cold as the possibility of being killed occurred 
to her; but even that darkness gave birth to a light. 
Being dressed in man’s garments, it was likely that the 
Valkyrias would mistake her for a boy; if she bore 
herself bravely, it was possible that they might carry 
her up to Valhalla. Should she once reach her father’s 
arms, he would not let Odin himself drive her forth. 
The hot tears gathered under her lids. If only she 
could get to her father! He would be glad to see her, 
and he would be proud of her; Rothgar himself had 
said it. Even Fridtjof would not be ashamed that she 
had borne his name. She must be very careful about 
that, she realized suddenly. He had never known what 
the word “fear” meant; even in Valhalla he would 
turn from her, should she disgrace him. It would be- 
come an unheard-of wickedness to borrow a name from 
the helpless dead if you could not wear it worthily. 
Her conscience smote her now, for her shirking, and 
she struggled to her feet. 

None too soon; above the outside din a horn 
clarioned, loud and clear. Through the hush that fol- 

70 


THE TRAINING OF FRIDTJOF THE PAGE 

lowed could be heard the voice of Canute, assigning 
their positions to the different bands. 

“ I and my kinsman, Ulf Jarl, shall be foremost. 
To the right of my standard Edric Jarl shall stand, 
and the men with whom he joined us. He shall have 
another standard. To the left of my bodyguard shall 
stand the men of Eric of Norway. Friends and kins- 
men shall stand together. There each will defend the 
other best.” 

Then Rothgar’s harsh voice sounded, shouting her 
name, — Fridtjof’s name. Giving her scarf a hasty 
twist about her arm, she knotted it with her teeth ; and 
seizing the sword in her little brown hand clotted with 
her own blood, she ran out into the tumult. 


7i 


CHAPTER VII 


THE GAME OF SWORDS 


It is better for the brave man 
Than for the coward 
To join in the battle. 

It is better for the glad 
Than for the sorrowing 
In all circumstances. 

FAFNISMAL. 



T would have been a dull 
that would not have 
stirred by a sight of 
the Danish camp. The host 
was like a forest of mighty 
trees tossing and swaying 
before the approach of a 
storm. Lines of moving 
elms shot lightning flashes 
the dusk of the 
shady grove; while the hundreds of jubilant voices 
blended into rumbling thunder. Through the tumult, 
the blaring horns thrilled like pulse-beats. 

Flaring crimson under her brown skin, Randalin’s 
Viking blood leaped to answer the call. For Rothgar’s 
shout she gave another, and laughed out of sheer de- 
light when he tossed her upon the back of a pawing 

72 



THE GAME OF SWORDS 


horse. Away with woman’s fears! The world was a 
grand brave place, and men a race of heroes. To ride 
by their sides, and share their mighty deeds, and see 
their glory, — what keener joy had life to offer? Away 
with fear, with foreboding! The present was all-glori- 
ous, and there would be no to-morrow. 

Shrill and clear from the opposite hill came the 
notes of the English horns, as down the green slope 
moved the ranks of English bowmen. The hum of 
Danish voices sank in a breathless hush; through the 
stillness, Tovi, the royal bannerman, galloped to his 
post. A rustle, a boom, and the great standard was 
unfurled, giving to the breeze the dread Raven of 
Denmark. Anxious eyes scanned its mien ; should 
it hang motionless, drooping — but no, it soared like 
a living bird ! Exultation burst from a thousand 
throats. 

Down the line came the young King upon his 
white war-horse, clad for the battle as for a feast. The 
sun at noonday is not more fiercely bright than was his 
face. His long locks flowed behind him on the wind 
like tongues of yellow flame; and like northern lights 
in a blue northern sky, the leader’s fire flashed in his 
eyes. So Balder the Beautiful might have come among 
the Jotuns. So the brawny sweating hard-breathing 
giants might have jostled and crowded toward him, 
expectant, adoring. 

As he came, he was calling out terrible reminders: 
words that were to the ears of his champing host what 
the smell of blood is to the nostrils of wolves. 

73 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Free men, true men, remember that ye face oath- 
breakers ! Remember how they have spoken fine words 
to us of plighted faith . . . and when we have believed 
them and laid down our arms . . . they have stolen 
upon us in our sleep . . . and murdered our comrades ! 
And our kinswomen whom they had taken to be their 
wives! Remember Saint Brice’s day! Remember our 
murdered kin ! ” 

On he went down the line; and like a trail in his 
wake, rose an answering chorus of growls and clashing 
steel. Down some of the battered old faces tears of 
excitement began to flow, like the water out of the 
riven rock; while the delirium of others took the form 
of mirth, so that they sent forth wild terrible laughter 
to swell the uproar. 

Above the tumult his voice rang like a bell : 

“ Heroes and sons of heroes, remember you fight 
cowards ! Remember that, since the days of our 
fathers, they have made gold do the work of steel. 
To get gold to buy peace, they will sell their children 
into slavery. Sooner than look our swords in the face, 
they will yield us their daughters to be our thralls! 
Oath-breakers, nithings! Will you be beaten by such? 
Vikings, Odinmen, forward!” 

His answer was the bursting roar of the Danish 
battle-cry. Like an avalanche loosed from its moorings, 
they swept down the hillside upon the English bow- 
men. From that moment, Randalin rode in a dream. 

At first it was a glorious dream. On, on, over the 
green plain, with the wind fresh in her face and the 

74 


THE GAME OF SWORDS 


music of the horns in her ears. The son of Lodbrok 
was beside her, singing as he went, and tossing his 
great battle-axe in the air to catch it again by the 
handle. In front of them rode Canute the King; in 
his hand his gleaming blade, whose thin edge he tried 
now and again on a lock of his floating hair, while he 
laughed with boyish delight. Once he turned his bright 
face back over his shoulder to call gayly to the Jotun: 

“ Brother, you were right in despising craft. When 
the battle-madness fills a man, he becomes a god ! ” 

On, till the bowmen’s faces were plain before them ; 
then suddenly it began to hail, — “the hail of the string.” 
Arrows! One hissed by the girl’s ear, and one bit her 
cloak, to hang there quivering with impotent fury. The 
man on her right made a terrible gurgling sound and 
put up his hand to tear a shaft from his throat. Would 
they be slain before — Canute rose in his stirrups with 
a great shout. The horns echoed it; the trot be- 
came a gallop, and the gallop a run. On, on, into the 
very heart of the hail-cloud. How the stones rattled 
on the armor ! And hissed ! There ! a man was death- 
doomed; he was falling. 

Her cry was cut short by the flashing of a blade 
before her. They had passed through the hail and 
reached the lightning! Throwing up her sword, she 
swerved to one side and escaped the bolt. Another 
faced her in this direction. The air was shot with 
bright flashes. Swish — clash! they sounded behind 
her; then a sickening jar, as Rothgar’s terrible axe fell. 
A yell of agony rent the air. Swish — clash ! the blows 

75 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


came faster; her ear could no longer separate them. 
The thud of the falling axes became one continuous 
pound. Faster and faster, heavier and heavier, — they 
blended into a discordant roar that closed around her 
like a wall. Here and there and to and fro, Rothgar’s 
great charger followed the King; and here and there 
and to and fro, on her foam-flecked horse, Randalin 
followed the son of Lodbrok, staring, dazed, stunned. 

Her wits were like a flock of birds loosed from the 
cage of her will, alighting here, upstarting there, with- 
out let or hindrance. Sometimes they stooped to so 
foolish a thing as a notch on her horse’s ear, and spent 
whole minutes questioning dully whether the teeth of 
another horse had made the wound or whether a sword 
had nicked it in battle. Sometimes they followed 
the notes of the horns, as the ringing tones passed the 
order along. From the blaring blast at her ear, the 
sound was drawn out on either side of her as fine as 
silver wire, far, far away toward the hills. It gave her 
no conscious impression of the vastness of the hosts, 
but it brought a vague sense of wandering, of help- 
lessness, that caused her fluttering wits to turn back, 
startled, and set to watching the pictures that showed 
through rifts in the swirling dust clouds, — an Eng- 
lishman falling from his saddle, his fingers widespread 
upon the air ; a Danish bowman wiping blood from his 
eyes that he might see to aim his shaft; yonder, the 
figure of Leofwinesson himself, leaping forward with 
swift-stabbing sword. But whether they were English 
who fell or Danes who stood, she had no thought, no 

76 


THE GAME OF SWORDS 


care; they meant no more to her than rune figures 
carved in wood. 

The sun rose higher in the heavens, till it stood 
directly overhead, and sweat mingled with the blood. 
Suddenly, the girl awoke to find that Rothgar’s singing 
had changed into cursing. 

“ Heed him not. King,” he was bellowing over 
his horse’s head. “ We have no need of trick-bought 
victories. We bear the highest shields; warrior-skill 
will win. We need not his snake-wisdom.” 

To the other side of the young leader, Thorkel the 
Tall was spurring, bending urgently from his saddle. 
“ Craft, my King ! Craft ! It will take till nightfall 
to decide the game. Why spill so much good blood? 
Listen to Edric the Gainer — ” 

Canute’s furious curse cut him short. “ To the 
Troll with your craft ! Swords shall make us, or 
swords shall mar us. Use your blade, or I will sheathe 
it in you.” 

Only the wind that took it from his lips heard the 
Tall One’s answer ; for at that moment his horse reared 
and sheered away before a spear-prick, and into the rift 
a handful of English rushed with shouts of triumph. 

There were no more than half-a-dozen of them, 
and all were on foot, the two whose gold-hilted swords 
proclaimed their nobility of birth sharing the lot of 
their lesser comrades according to the old Saxon war- 
custom; but it needed not the daring of the attack to 
mark them as the very flower of English chivalry. The 
young noble, who hovered around his chief much as 

77 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Rothgar circled about Canute, would have been lordly 
in a serf’s tunic; and the leader’s royal bearing dis- 
tinguished him even more than his mighty frame. 

At the sight of him, Rothgar uttered a great cry 
of “ Edmund ! ” and moved forward, swinging his up- 
lifted axe. But the Ironside caught it on his shield 
and delivered a sword-thrust in return that dropped 
the Dane’s arm by his side. As it fell, Rothgar’s left 
hand plucked forth his blade, but the English king had 
pressed past him toward his master. 

Canute’s weapon had need to dart like a northern 
light. The noble and one of the soldiers had forced 
their way to the side from which Thorkel had been 
riven, and a third threatened him from the rear. Three 
blades stabbed at him as with one motion. 

It was a strange thing that saved him, — Randalin 
could explain it least of all. But in a lightning flash 
it was burnt into her mind that, while her King’s sword 
was a match for the two in front of him, the one be- 
hind was going to deal him his death. And even as 
she thought it, she found that she had thrown herself 
across her horse’s neck and thrust out her sword-arm, 
— out with the force of frenzy and down into the 
shoulder of the Englishman. In a kind of dazed won- 
der, she saw his blade fall from his grasp and his eyes 
roll up at her, as he staggered backwards. 

Canute laughed out, “Well done, Berserker!” and 
redoubled his play against those before him. 

A turn of his wrist disarmed the soldier, and his 
point touched the young noble’s breast; but before he 

78 


THE GAME OF SWORDS 

could lunge, the mighty figure of Edmund rose close 
at hand, his blade heaved high above his head. 

For such a stroke there was no parry. A kingdom 
seemed to be passing. Canute threw his shield before 
him, while his spur caused his horse to swerve vio- 
lently; but the blade cleft wood and iron and golden 
plating like parchment, and falling on the horse’s 
neck, bit it to the bone. Rearing and plunging with 
pain, the animal crashed into those behind him, 
missed his footing and fell, entangling his rider in 
the trappings. Bending over him, the Ironside struck 
again. 

But the son of Lodbrok had still his left arm. 
Bearing his shield, it shot out over the body of his 
King. The falling brand bit this screen also, and 
lopped off the hand that held it, but the respite was 
sufficient. In a flash Canute was on his feet, both 
hands grasping the hilt of his high-flung sword. 

It was a mighty blow, but it fell harmless. A sud- 
den surge in the tide of struggling bodies swept the 
Ironside out of reach and engulfed him in a whirlpool 
of Danish swords. He laid about him like mad, and 
was like to have cleared a passage back, when a second 
wave carried him completely from view. 

Canute cursed at the anxious faces that surrounded 
him. “What means it, this swaying? What is herd- 
ing them? Who are flying? Fools! Can you not tell 
a retreat? Bid the horns blow — ” 

“ The English ! ” bellowed Rothgar. “ The Eng- 
lish are flying — Edmund’s head! Yonder!” 

79 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Frode’s daughter had Viking blood, but she hid 
her face with a cry. There it was, high upon a spear- 
point, dripping, ghastly. Could the sun shine upon 
such a thing? 

Ay, and men could rejoice at it. Above the panic 
scream she heard cries of savage joy. 

But Canute sat motionless, on the new horse they 
had brought him. “ It is not possible,” he muttered. 
“ The flight began while he still faced me. It was 
their crowding that saved him.” 

To stare before him, Rothgar let the blood pour 
unheeded from his wounded arm. ‘‘Yonder Edmund 
rides now!” he gasped. “You can tell him by his 
size — Yonder! Now he is tearing off his helmet — ” 

Nor was he mistaken; within spear-throw the 
mighty frame of the Ironside towered above his strug- 
gling guard. As he bared his head, they could even 
distinguish his face with its large elegantly-formed 
features and Ethelred’s prominent chin. Brandish- 
ing his sword, shouting words of reassurance, ex- 
posing his person without a thought of the darts 
aimed at him, he was making a heroic effort to check 
the rush of his panic-stricken host. There was no 
question both that he was alive and that he knew 
who was belying him; even as they looked he hurled 
his spear, with a cry of rage, at the form of Edric 
Jarl. 

Missing the Mercian, it struck down a man at his 
side; and high above the voice of the ill-fated King 
rose the shrill alarms of the traitor’s heralds. 

So 


THE GAME OF SWORDS 


“ Fly, ye men of Dorsetshire and Devon ! Fly and 
save yourselves ! Here is your Edmund’s head ! ” 

Randalin stared about her, doubting her senses. 
But light had begun to dawn on Canute. He wheeled 
sharply, as Thorkel pushed his horse to their sides. 

“Whose head was that?” he demanded. 

Thorkel’s face was a lineless mask. “ I believe 
his name was Osmaer,” he answered without emotion. 
“ It was unheard-of good fortune that he should be so 
like Edmund in looks.” 

The young King’s face was suffused with bitter- 
ness. “ Good fortune ! ” he cried sharply. “ Good for- 
tune! Am I a fool or a coward that I am never to 
win except by craft or good fortune? Had you let 
me alone — ” His voice broke, so bitter was his 
disappointment. 

His foster-father regarded him from under lowered 

lids. 

“ Would you have won without them to-day? ” he 
inquired. 

“Yes!” Canute cried savagely, “had you given 
me time. Yes!” 

But what else he answered, Randalin never knew. 
Some unseen obstacle turned in their direction the 
stream of rushing horsemen. In an instant the torrent 
had caught them in its whirling eddies, and they were 
so many separate atoms borne along on the flood. To 
hold back was to be thrown down; to fall was to be 
trampled into rags. The battle had changed into a 
hunt. 

6 


81 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Thundering hoof-beats, crashing blows, shrieks 
and groans and falling bodies, — a sense of being 
caught in a wolf pack took possession of the girl; and 
the feeling grew with every sidelong glance she had 
of the savage sweating dust-grimed faces, in their 
jungles of blood-clotted hair. The battle-madness was 
upon them, and they were no longer men, but beasts of 
prey. Amid the chaos of her mind, a new idea shaped 
itself like a new world. If she could but work her way 
to the edge of the herd, she might escape down one 
of those green aisles opening before them. If she only 
could! Every fibre in her became intent upon it. 

A little opening showed on her right. Though she 
could not see the ground before her, she took the risk 
and swung her horse into the breach. His forefeet 
came down upon the body of a fallen man, but it was 
too late to draw back. Gripping her lip in her teeth, 
she spurred him on. The man turned over with a yell, 
and used his one unbroken arm to thrust upward his 
broken sword. The blade cut her leg to the bone, and 
she shrieked with the pain; but her startled horse had 
no thought of stopping. Making his way with plunges 
and leaps, he carried her out of the press sooner than 
she could have guided him out. Once on the edge, he 
broke into a run. The agony of the shaken wound was 
unbearable. Shrieking and moaning, she twisted her 
hands in the lines and tried to stop him. But her 
strength was ebbing from her with her blood. By 
and by she dropped the rein altogether and clung to 
the saddle-bow. 


82 


THE GAME OF SWORDS 


They reached the woods at last, cool and sweet 
and hushed in holy peace. The frantic horse plunged 
into one of the arching lanes, and the din of the hunt 
died behind her; silence fell like a curtain at their 
heels; even the thudding hoof-beats were softened on 
the leafy ground. Randalin lay along the horse’s neck 
now, and her senses had begun to slip away from her 
like the tide from the shore. It occurred to her that 
she was dying, and that the Valkyrias could not find 
her if she should be carried too far away from the 
battle-field. Trying to hold them back, she stretched 
a feeble hand toward the trees; and it seemed to her 
that they did not glide past quite so rapidly. And the 
green river that had been rushing toward her, that 
passed under her more slowly too. Sometimes she 
could even make out violets amid the waves. But 
the waves were rising strangely, she thought, — rising, 
rising — 

At last, she felt their cool touch upon her fore- 
head. They had risen and stopped her. Somewhere, 
there was the soft thud of a falling body; then the 
cool greenness closed around her and held her ten- 
derly, a crumpled leaf that the whirlwind had dropped 
from its sport. 


83 


CHAPTER VIII 


TAKEN CAPTIVE 

No one turns from good, if it can be got. 

HAVAMAL. 

YING drowned in cool si- 
lence, the girl came slowly 
to a consciousness that 
someone was stooping over 
her. Raising her heavy lids, 
her eyes rested on a man’s 
face, showing dimly in the 
dusk of the starlight. 

He said in English, “ Ca- 
nute’s page, by the Saints ! 99 
A chorus of voices answered him : “ The fiend’s 
brat that pierced your shoulder?” — “Choke him!” 
— “ Better he die now than after he has waxed large 
on English blood.” — “ Finish him ! ” 

Opening her eyes wider, she found that heads and 
shoulders made a black hedge around her. 

The victim of her blade straightened, shaking his 
shaggy mane. “ Were I a Pagan Dane, I would run 
my sword through him. But I am a Christian Eng- 
lishman. Let him lie. He will bleed his life out be- 
fore morning.” 



84 



TAKEN CAPTIVE 


“ Come on, then,” the chorus growled. “ The 
Etheling is asking what hinders us.” — “ Make haste ! ” 
— “ The Etheling is here!” 

While the warrior was turning, a new voice spoke. 

“Canute’s page?” it repeated after some unseen 
informant. “ Is he dead? ” 

It was a young voice, and deep and soft, for all 
the note of quiet authority ringing through it; some- 
thing in its tone was agreeably different from the 
harsh utterance of the first speaker. Randalin’s eyes 
rose dreamily to find the owner. 

He had ridden up behind the others on a pranc- 
ing white horse. Above the black hedge, the square 
strength of his shoulders and the graceful lines of 
his helmed head were silhouetted sharply against the 
starry sky. Why had they so familiar a look? Ah! 
the noble who had followed Edmund — 

So far she got, and then all was blotted out in 
a flash of pain, as the man nearest her put out a hand 
and touched her torn limb. 

“ Wriggling like a fish, lord,” he answered the 
new-comer. 

A sound on the soft turf told that the horseman 
had alighted. “ The bantling is of too good quality to 
leave,” he said good-naturedly. “ Catch my bridle, 
Oswin. Where is he wounded?” 

He made a quick step toward her, then paused as 
suddenly, his chin thrust out in listening. A gesture 
of his hand imposed a sudden silence, through which 
the sound became distinct to all ears, — a trampling 

85 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


and crashing in the brush beyond the moonlit open. 
As they wheeled to face it, a shout came from that 
direction. 

“ What ho ! Does the Lord of Ivarsdale go there? ” 

He whom they had called the Etheling drew him- 
self up alertly. “ I make no answer to hedge-creepers,” 
he said. “ Come out where you can be seen.” 

The voice took on a mocking edge. “ There is no 
gainsaying that I feel safer here. I am the messenger 
of Edric of Mercia.” 

Only a warning sign from the Lord of Ivarsdale 
restrained an angry chorus. He said with slow con- 
tempt, “ I grant that it is well fitting the Gainer’s 
deeds that his men should flinch from the light — ” 

“ Misgreet me not,” the mocking voice interrupted. 
“ Before cockcrow we shall be sworn brothers. I bear 
a message to King Edmund. And I want you to fur- 
ther me on my way by telling which direction will 
fetch me to his camp.” 

Derisive laughter went up from the band of King’s 
men. Their leader snapped his fingers. 

“ That for your slippery devices ! Is the Gainer 
so ill-advised as to imagine that he is dealing with a 
second Ethelred?” 

“ I tell you to keep in mind,” the voice retorted, 
“ that before the cock crows we shall be sworn 
brothers.” 

The Etheling’s anger leaped out like a flame ; even 
in the starlight it could be seen how his face crimsoned. 

“ No, as God lives ! ” he answered swiftly. “ It is 

86 


TAKEN CAPTIVE 


not to Edmund alone that the Gainer is loathful. 
Should he pass the King’s sword, a hundred blades 
wait for him, mine among them. Seek what he may 
seek, he shall not have peace of us. When I guide a 
wolf to my sheep-fold, I will show you the way to 
Edmund’s camp. Take yourself out of reach if you 
would not be sped with arrows.’’ 

A jeering laugh was the only answer, but the 
tramping of hoofs suggested that his advice was being 
taken. 

When the sound had faded quite away, the Lord 
of Ivarsdale breathed out the rest of his resentment in 
a hearty imprecation, and, turning, came on to his 
patient. His voice was as gentle as a woman’s as he 
dropped on his knee beside the slim figure. 

“What is your need, little fire-eater?” 

A memory of her haunting terror stirred in the 
girl. Shrinking from him, she made a desperate effort 
to push away his outstretched hand, threatening him 
in a broken whisper. 

“ If you touch me — I will — kill you.” 

They were brave men, those Englishmen. The 
Etheling only smiled, and one of his warriors chuckled. 
With a touch as gentle as it was strong, he put aside 
her resisting hands and began swiftly to cut away the 
blood-stiffened hose. Darkness closed around Randa- 
lin again, darkness shot with zigzag lightnings of pain, 
and throbbing with pitiful moans. 

The idea took possession of her that she was once 
more on the battle-field, that it was the cries of the 

87 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


men who were falling around her which pierced the 
air, and their weapons that stabbed her as they fell. 
Then their hands clutched her in a dying grip. Horse- 
men loomed up before her and came nearer, and she 
could not get out of their path, though she struggled 
with all her force. The hoofs were almost upon 
her. . . . Uttering a wild scream, she put forth all 
her strength in a last effort. 

“ It will be like holding a young tiger, lord,” a 
harsh voice suddenly reached her ear. 

She came to herself to find that soldiers were lift- 
ing her up to the horseman, where he sat again in his 
saddle. She recognized the squareness of his shoulders ; 
and she knew the gentleness of his touch as he slipped 
his free arm around her and drew her carefully into 
place, making of his stalwart body a support for her 
weakness. No strength was in her to struggle against 
him; only her wide bright eyes sought his, with the 
terror of a snared bird. 

Meeting the look and understanding a small part 
of its question, he said a reassuring word in his pleas- 
ant low-pitched voice : “ Be of good cheer, youngling ; 
there is no thought of eating you. I will bring you to 
a cup of wine before moonrise, if you hold fast.” 

It is doubtful if the girl so much as heard him. 
Her eyes were passing from feature to feature of his 
face, as the stars revealed it above her, — from the 
broad comely brow to the square young chin, from the 
clean-cut fine-tempered mouth to the clear true eyes. 
One by one she noted them, and shade by shade her 

88 


TAKEN CAPTIVE 


strained look of fear relaxed. Slowly she forgot her 
dread; and forgetting, her mind wandered to other 
things, — to memories of her father, and of the happy 
evenings by the fire when she had nestled safe in his 
arms, — safe and sheltered and beloved. With eyes 
still turned up toward his face, her lids drooped and 
fell ; and her head sank upon his breast and lay there, 
in the peace of perfect faith. 


89 


CHAPTER IX 

THE YOUNG LORD OF IVARSDALE 


Brand is kindled from brand 
Till it is burnt out ; 

Fire is kindled from fire ; 

A man gets knowledge 
By talk with a man, 

But becomes wilful by self-conceit. 

hAvamAl. 


AP — tap, tap — tap, like 
,water dripping slowly. 
Drop by drop the sound 
filtered through the thick 
wrappings of Randalin’s 
slumber, till she knew it 
for the beat of horses* 
hoofs, and stirred and 
opened her eyes. 

The silver shimmer of 
starlight falling through purple deeps had given way 
to the ruddy glare of a camp fire, and she was lying 
just beyond its heat, cloak-wrapped, on a bed of leaves. 
Above her, interlacing beech boughs made an arching 
roof, under which the shadows clustered as swallows 
under eaves. Before her, green tree-lanes opened out 
like corridors. As far as the fireglow could reach, they 

90 




THE YOUNG LORD OF IVARSDALE 


were flooded with golden light ; where it stopped, they 
were closed across by darkness as by gray-black doors. 
Within the sylvan alcove, some four-score battle- 
stained warriors were taking their ease after a hard 
day. Some of them were engaged in the ghastly busi- 
ness of bandaging wounds, and some were already 
asleep; but the greater number lounged in the fire- 
light, drinking and feasting on strips of venison which 
serfs had cooked in the flames. 

Through the fog of her drowsiness Randalin rec- 
ognized them slowly. Yonder was the Englishman 
who had found her in the bushes. Beyond him, across 
the fire, the soldiers who had lifted her up to the horse- 
man. Here, just in front of her, was the leader him- 
self. Her gaze settled upon him dreamily. 

He had finished his meal, if meal it could be called, 
and was making some attempt at a toilet. While one 
serf knelt beside him, scrubbing at his muddy riding- 
boots with a wisp of wet grass, another held a gilt 
shield up for a mirror, and before this the Etheling 
was carefully parting his shining hair. His captive’s 
eyes were not the only ones upon him, and the bright 
metal showed that he was laughing a little at the com- 
ments his performance drew forth from the three old 
cnihts lounging near him. 

“ Tending by five hairs to the sword-side, Lord 
Sebert,” one of them was offering quizzical criticism 
over his drinking-horn. 

“ The Etheling must needs have extraordinary re- 
spect for the endurance of Harald Fairhair, for it is 

9i 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


said that to accomplish a vow he went three years 
without barbering himself,” another said gravely. 
While a third became slyly reminiscent, as he chewed 
his venison. 

“ These are soft days, comrades. The last time I 
followed the old chief, of honored memory, we held 
our war-council standing knee-deep in a fen. We had 
neither eaten nor drunk for two days, and three days* 
blood was on our hands.” 

The young chief took it all with careless good- 
humor. 

“ When you leave off eating, in memory of that 
brave time, I will leave off washing,” he returned. 
“ Would you have me go into a royal council looking 
as though birds had nested in my hair? ” With a 
parting scrutiny of his smooth locks, he motioned the 
shield-bearer aside and turned back to them his comely 
face, rosy from his recent ablutions and alight with a 
momentary enthusiasm. 

“ I tell you, nothing but a warrior’s life becomes 
ethel-born men,” he said as he straightened himself 
with a gallant gesture. “ Nor sluggishness nor junket- 
ings, but days under fire and nights among the Wise 
Men of the council; that, in truth, becomes their 
station. By Saint Mary, I feel that I have never lived 
before! One week at the heels of Edmund Ironside is 
worth a lifetime under the banner of any other king.” 

A pause met his warmth somewhat coldly; and 
the warrior who broke the silence lowered his voice to 
do it. 


9 2 


THE YOUNG LORD OF IVARSDALE 


“ Keep in mind, lord, that it is no more than a 
week that you have been at his heels,” he said. 

“ Likewise bear in mind whose son he is,” the man 
with the drinking-horn added grimly. He was a stout 
white-bearded old cniht with an obstinate old face 
that looked something like a ruddy apple in a snow- 
bank. 

Flushing, the young noble ceased examining his 
sword-edge to meet the eyes bent upon him. 

“ I hope you do not think I stand in need of a 
rebuke for lukewarmness, Morcard,” he said gravely. 
“ I have no more forgot that King Edmund’s father 
gave the order for my father’s murder than I have for- 
got that Edric was the tool who did the deed. May 
Saint Peter exterminate him with his sword! Did I 
not live even as a lordless man the while that Ethel- 
red remained upon the throne? But what sense to 
continue at that after Ethelred was dead, and the valor 
of his son was to that degree exalted as if he had 
sprung from Alfred? Yourself counselled me to join 
him at Gillingham, and take the post under his banner 
that my fathers have always held beside his fathers.” 

Two of the three warriors made no other answer 
than to gurgle their drink noisily in their throats ; but 
the one whom he had called Morcard answered dryly, 
“ It is not against testing the new king that we would 
advise you, Lord Sebert; it is against trusting him. 
But we will not be troublesome.” He lifted his hand 
suddenly to his ear. “ Horses’ feet ! And stopping 
by the King’s fire — ” 


93 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


What else he said, Randalin did not hear. Her 
wits had crawled heavily after the sound of the hoofs. 
Now the beat changed to a champing and stamping 
among dry leaves not many rods to her right. She 
wondered indifferently if there was any likelihood of 
their running over her; then forgot the query before 
she had answered it. 

The Etheling was speaking again, with all the 
earnestness of hero-worship. 

“ — the battles he has fought, the abundance of 
warriors he has gathered together, the land he has won 
back since his father’s death ! Only take to-day — ” 

“ Ay, take to-day ! ” the old man snapped him 
up with unexpected vehemence. “ And the Devil take 
me if I ever heard of such witless folly! What! To 
go plunging off into the thick of the enemy, endan- 
gering in his person the hope of the whole English 
nation — ” 

The young noble relaxed from his earnestness to 
laugh. “ Now has habit outrid your manners, Mor- 
card. So long have you been wont to use your tongue 
on my heedlessness, that it begins mechanically to per- 
form the same office for Edmund. In a king, such 
courage inspires — ” 

“ Courage ! ” Morcard’s fingers snapped loudly. 
“ Did not the henchman who followed you have cour- 
age? Yet do we think of crowning him? I tell you that 
a king needs to have something besides courage. He 
needs to have judgment. Then will he know better 
than to leave his men like sheep without a leader. The 
. 94 


THE YOUNG LORD OF IVARSDALE 


old proverb has it right, ‘ When the chief fails, the host 
quails.’ It was when they had become frightened about 
him that they began to give way, and after that it was 
easy for any oaf to jump out of the bushes and put 
them to flight.” 

This time the Etheling’s smile was rather unwill- 
ing. “ Oh ! If you think fit to set at naught a brave 
deed because nothing arose from it! After his father’s 
cowardice, such energy and dauntlessness alone — ” 

“ Dauntlessness ! ” the old cniht snorted again. 
“ It is the dauntlessness of the man in Father In- 
gulph’s story, who was so much wiser than his ad- 
visers that he must try to drive the sun a new way, 
till it came so nigh as it nighest may to setting the 
world afire.” So hot was his scorn that he was obliged 
to cool it in his ale, coming to the surface slightly 
mollified. “ However, Lord Sebert, you have cast your 
colt’s-teeth, and I have no desire to tread upon the 
toes of your dignity. If I have been over-free, excuse 
it in your father’s old servant and comrade who has 
guarded and guided you since — since you have had 
teeth to cast.” 

The young man laughed good-humoredly as he 
straightened himself for action. “ Too often has my 
dignity bent under your rod, Morcard, to hold itself 
very stiff against you now. Never fear; I will be an 
owl of discretion. Give you favorable dreams over 
your horns ! ” He picked up his cloak and was turn- 
ing to depart, when one of the warriors flung up a 
hand. 


95 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Soft, my lord. Yonder comes Wikel making 
strange signs to you.” 

All heads but Randalin’s turned in the direction 
he was looking. She was still too lethargic for curi- 
osity; and she found a kind of dreamy content in 
lying with her eyes upon the Etheling’s handsome 
face. Though its prevailing characteristic was the 
easy amiability of one who has known little of opposi- 
tion or dislike, there was no lack of steel in the blue 
eyes or of iron in the square chin; now and then a 
spark betrayed them, thrilling pleasantly through her 
drowsiness. 

Presently, however, between her and the comely 
apparition there intervened the brawny figure of a 
yeoman-soldier. 

He said breathlessly, “ Chief — before you go to 
the King — be it known to you that those horse-feet 
you heard — belong to the mounts of Edric of Mercia 
and his men — and he is with King Edmund now ! ” 

The three stolid old warriors got to their feet with 
curses. The Etheling bent forward to gaze incredu- 
lously into the man’s face. 

" Edric of Mercia? With the King? Why do you 
think so? ” 

“ I was a little way beyond the King’s fire, watch- 
ing a fellow who was showing how he could jump over 
the flames, when I saw the Gainer ride past; and I 
followed him, as near as the guards would permit — 
near enough to see that the King received him — let 
him settle it with Saint Cuthbert ! ” 

96 


THE YOUNG LORD OF I VARSDALE 


There was a pause of utter stupefaction; then, 
from all within hearing, a clamorous outburst : “ It is 
the Gainer’s luck again!” — “The messenger knew what 
he was saying!” — “No sharpness of wit can compre- 
hend it ! ” — “ It is the magic of his flattering tongue.” 
— “A hundred tongues had done no harm if Ed- 
mund — ” The voices sank into a snarling under- 
tone: “Ay, there it is ! ”— “ Ethelred’s blood!”— “It 
is no more to be counted on than is water — ” “ What 
could have moved him to it?” 

Morcard’s throat emitted a sound that might have 
been a chuckle or might have been a growl. “ I will 
tell you plainly for why; it is his dauntlessness. He 
is going to pit his green wit against Edric’s, that has 
made two kings as wax between his fingers! And he 
has begun by letting the wolf into the fold.” 

It appeared that the Etheling had recovered from 
his surprise, for now he said steadily, “ I will not be- 
lieve it. Until their oaths have been spoken and their 
hands have clasped and my own eyes have witnessed 
it, I will not believe it of him.” 

Motioning them from his path, he was starting 
forward a second time, when the old cniht laid a hand 
lightly upon his shoulder. 

“ Hear me, Lord Sebert ! If then, — to weigh all 
perils like a soldier, — if then, you do witness it with 
your own eyes? ” 

The blue gave out a flash of smitten steel. 

Morcard answered as to words: “You will be one 
against many, lord.” 

7 


97 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“You cannot mean that the Witan will comply 
with him ! ” the Etheling cried. 

“ How is it possible that they should do other- 
wise? The odal-born men could not prevent it when 
Ethelred took Alfric back. And to-night, few but 
thanes have resorted thither-— men whom the Rede- 
less took from ploughing his fields to gild with no- 
bility. Is it likely that they will oppose the hand that 
can strip off their gilding?” 

It appeared that the young man could find no an- 
swer to that, for he made none. 

“ At least once, my lord, Ethelred’s wilfulness has 
shown in his son, when he set aside the King’s com- 
mand to take possession of Sigeferth’s widow and her 
estates. And I think it was Ethelred’s temper that 
moved him to spend an energy, much better directed 
against the Pagans, in laying waste two of his own 
shires. Remember what happened when your father 
raised himself against Ethelred.” 

Restive under the restraining hand, the young 
noble faced him desperately. “ Morcard, in God’s 
name, what would you have me do? I will not 
bend to it, nor would you wish me to. Or sooner or 
later — ” 

“ Let it be later, lord. After you have had time to 
marshal your wits, and when it is daylight, and you 
have your men at your back.” 

After a while, the Etheling yielded and turned aside. 
“ Let it be as you have said — though I cannot believe 
yet that it will happen.” Coming back where a fallen 

98 


THE YOUNG LORD OF IVARSDALE 


tree made a mossy seat, he dropped down upon it and 
sat staring at the ground in frowning abstraction. 

The motion dropped him out of the range of Ran- 
dalin’s vision, and her eyes wandered away discon- 
tentedly. If there was nothing more to look at, she 
might as well go to sleep. The fire was dying down so 
that the overhanging shadow was drooping lower, like 
a canopy that would fall and smother them when the 
spears of light that upheld it should sink at last in 
the ashes. The doors of darkness had moved far up 
the tree-corridors, and strange flickering shapes peered 
through. Her eyes followed them heavily. The for- 
est was very still now; even the grating sound of the 
frogs was hushed, and the low hum of the voices around 
the fire was soothing as the sound of swarming bees. 

She was just losing consciousness when the figure 
of a second yeoman-soldier moved across her vision, 
looming black against the fireglow. His whisper came 
sharply to her ears. 

" It is done, chief. May they have the wrath of 
the Almighty! Their hands have met, Edric’s and the 
King’s, and his thanes’ and Norman of Baddeby’s, who 
is with Edric. Now are they lying down in their man- 
tles, as it were to seal their pledge by sleeping within 
reach of each other’s knives.” 

“ Norman of Baddeby ! ” the name leaped out of 
the rest to bite at her like a dog, worrying deeper and 
deeper through the wrappings of her stupor. Her eyes 
widened in troubled questioning. She heard the angry 
voices rise, and she saw the Etheling leap to his feet 

99 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


and shake his clenched hand above his head. Then she 
lost sight of everything, for the fang had pierced her 
torpor and touched her. 

“Norman of Baddeby ” — her father’s slayer! 
Memory entered like poison to spread burning through 
every vein. Her father — Fridtjof — the Jotun — the 
battle — Her ears were dinned with terrible noises; 
her eyes were seared by terrible pictures. She crushed 
her hands against her head, but the sound came from 
within and would not be stilled. She buried her face 
in the leaves, but the visions pressed faster before her. 
The son of Leofwine and the drunken feast — the girl 
outside the tent — the Jotun within it — her terrible 
young guardian — the battle-madness — whichever way 
she looked, a new spectre confronted her. Helpless in 
their grip, she tossed to and fro in agony — to and fro. 

Though it was so tortured that she could not tell 
it from her waking thoughts, sleep must have come to 
her; for when at last she reached the point where she 
could endure it no longer and struggled up, panting, 
to her elbow, to try to recall herself by a sight of 
those about her, she found that the hum of excited 
voices was stilled, and the silence throbbed with the 
deep breathing of sleepers. From under the canopy of 
darkness the fiery spears had dropped away, leaving 
the thick folds sagging lower and lower. Swarming 
under its shelter, the shadow-shapes were closing in 
upon her. 

For a while she watched them absently; then a 
whim of her tortured brain poisoned them also. They 

ioo 



THE YOUNG LORD OF IVARSDALE 


became terrible nameless Things, mouthing at her, 
darting upon her. She drew her eyes resolutely 
away and set herself to listening to the breathing 
that throbbed in a dozen keys through the silence. 

Almost at her feet, the Etheling was stretched out 
in his cloak, motionless as the fallen tree. Her face 
was slowly relaxing when, a second time, memory be- 
trayed her. Just so, she recollected, Leofwine’s son 
was lying, not a hundred yards away. Through the 
trees, the glow of the King’s fire came distinctly; gaz- 
ing toward it, she could almost convince herself that 
she could see the murderer, peaceful, secure. She 
ground her teeth in a sudden spasm of rage. Would 
that some of those weak-witted thanes would prove 
the mettle of the knives he was daring! 

The next instant, she had thrown herself down 
with terror-widened eyes, and was trying to bury her 
face in the leaves, while the tongueless mouth of every 
shadowy shape seemed to shriek above her, — 

“ Odin sends you revenge ! ” — “ It is the will of 
Odin that has drawn you together ! ” — “ Strange and 
wonderful is the way in which you are hesitating ! ” 
— “ Would you become like the girl with the neck- 
lace?” — “Are you a coward, that you do not prefer 
to die in good repute rather than live in the shame of 
neglecting your duty? ” 

She flung up her haggard face in appeal. “ No, 
no, I am not a coward,” her spirit cried within her. 
“ I was brave in the battle. It is not death I fear; but 
I cannot kill ! Odin, have mercy on me ! I cannot kill. 


IOI 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


I have tried to be brave, but I am really a woman; it 
is not possible for me to have a man’s heart.” 

The grinning shadows mouthed at her. “You 
have not dared to be a woman,” they mocked. “You 
have not dared to be a woman, so you must dare to be 
a man.” 

A night wind shuddered through the trees, and 
the hovering shades seemed to hiss in her ear. 

“Coward! Traitor! Nithing! Do you not get 
afraid that you will experience the wrath of the dead? 
Listen! Is that the wind rustling the leaves? Or 
is it — ” 

A gasp burst from the white lips, and the die was 
cast. While the cold drops started on her pain-racked 
body, she dragged herself to her knees and fumbled 
with trembling hands about her belt. For an in- 
stant, something like a moonbeam glimmered amid 
the shadow; then her lips closed convulsively upon 
the steel. Tipping forward upon her hands, she tested 
cautiously the strength of her wounded leg, smother- 
ing groans of pain that seemed to tear her throat in 
the swallowing. But the whispering of the night-wind 
was like a spur in her side; inch by inch, she crawled 
steadily toward the flickering light. 


102 


CHAPTER X 


AS THE NORNS DECREE 

This I thee counsel tenthly; 

That thou never trust 
A foe’s kinsman’s promises, 

Whose brother thou hast slain, 

Or sire laid low ; 

There is a wolf 
In a young son, 

Though he with gold be gladdened. 

SIGRDRIFUMAL. 


T was a long way to the 
King’s fire, but at last it 
lay before her; before and 
below her, for it had been 
built in a depression of the 
little open. The last charred 
log had fallen apart, spread- 
ing a swarm of golden glow- 
worms over the black earth, 
but there was still enough 
light to reveal a ring of muffled forms sprawling 
around the sloping sides of the hollow, with their feet 
toward the fire and their heads lost in darkness. Paus- 
ing in the tree-shadow, the girl thrilled with sudden 
hope. Since their faces were all hidden, how was she 
to distinguish her victim? Even the dead must see 

103 




THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


that it would be impossible. If the burden could only 
be lifted from her! 

Fate was inexorable. At that moment, the war- 
rior directly in front of her stirred in his sleep and 
flung a jewelled hand over his face. Those broad gold 
rings with the green stones that sparkled like serpents’ 
eyes as they caught the light! They were fixed in- 
delibly in her memory, for she had seen them on 
the rapacious hand that had seized upon her while 
it was still red with her father’s blood. Only from 
them, she could reconstruct every hard line of the 
hidden face. Suddenly, in the rage that rose in her 
at the recollection, she found determination for the 
deed. 

The sentinel nearest her was snoring at his post; 
the further one would not be able to reach her in time, 
even should he see her. Somewhere, far away, a cock 
was crowing; and it came to her suddenly that the 
breathlessness about her was the hush that precedes 
the dawn. There was no time to lose, she told herself 
feverishly, and moved forward with snake-like still- 
ness. Between the sheltering arm and the neck of the 
steel shirt there was a space of naked throat. Setting 
her teeth, she raised her knife and struck down at it 
with a strong hand. 

The point never reached its mark. For an instant 
she could not tell what had happened. Fingers closed 
like iron bands around her wrist, pulling her back- 
wards so that the pain of her twisted wound wrung a 
cry from her lips. They were not Norman’s fingers, 

104 


AS THE NORNS DECREE 

yet he also was stirring; while darting flashes from 
the dusk about them told that the other sleepers were 
drawing their weapons. Then some one threw a branch- 
ful of dead leaves upon the fire. 

The flame that flared up showed her arm to be in 
the grasp of the Lord of Ivarsdale. 

“ You mad young one ! ” he gasped, as he wrenched 
the blade from her hold. 

Voices rose in angry questioning, but Randalin 
was too fear-benumbed to understand what they said. 
Norman’s keen eyes were turned upon her, and rec- 
ognition was dawning in their gaze. Suddenly, he 
snatched her from Sebert’s grasp and held her down 
to the firelight. 

Could she have seen the mask which dust and blood 
had made for her, she would have been spared the 
terror-swoon that left her limp in his grasp. But it 
only bewildered her when, after an instant’s scrutiny, 
he let her fall with an angry laugh. 

“ The boy from Avalcomb ! Certainly these Danes 
are as hard to kill as cats! I would have sworn to it 
that I had separated his life from his body not eight- 
and-forty hours ago.” A gleam of eagerness came 
into his face, and he bent over her again. “ You shall 
serve my purpose by your obstinacy,” he said under 
his breath. “ You shall tell me where your sister is. 
You know, for you escaped together. When I was 
restored to my senses, I found you both gone. Tell 
me where she lies hidden, and it may be that I will 
grant to you a longer life.” 

I0 5 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Her stiff lips could not have spoken an answer 
had her paralyzed brain been able to frame one. She 
could only gaze back at him in helpless waiting. 

A second time he was bending toward her, when 
something stopped him midway so that he straight- 
ened and drew back with a bow. It came to her sud- 
denly that they were all bowing, and that the hubbub 
had died in mid-air. Through the hush, a quiet voice 
spoke. 

“ You are eager in rising, my lords,” it said. 

From the shelter, half cave, half bower, which had 
been contrived amid the bushes, a warrior of mighty 
frame had emerged and stood examining the scene. 
Though with soldierly hardiness he had taken his rest 
in his war-harness, he was unhelmed, and the light 
that revealed the protruding chin had no need to pick 
out the jewelled diadem to mark him as Edmund 
Ironside. The irregularity was very slight — not large 
enough to give him a combative look or to mar the 
fine proportions of his face, but it did unquestionably 
add to his stately bearing an expression of complacency 
that was unforgettable. 

He repeated his inquiry : “ What is the amuse- 
ment, my thanes? From the clamor which awakened 
me, I had some notion of an attack.” 

Norman of Baddeby bent in a second reverence. 
“Your expectations are to this degree fulfilled, my 
royal lord,” he made answer. “ Behold the enemy ! ” 
Stooping, he raised the red-cloaked figure by its collar 
and held it up in the firelight. As a murmur of laugh- 

106 


AS THE NORNS DECREE 


ter went around, he lowered it again and spoke more 
gravely. “ A hand needs not be large to get a hilt 
under its gripe, however. The young wolf is of north- 
ern breed, — how he penetrated to the heart of an Eng- 
lish camp, I cannot tell, — and there grows in his spirit 
a bloodthirsty disposition. He seeks my life because 
in a skirmish, a few days gone by, I had the good luck 
to kill his father. If it — ” 

He said more, but Randalin did not listen to him. 
All at once Sebert of Ivarsdale reached out, and taking 
her by her cloak, drew her gently to his side, interpos- 
ing his sword-arm between her and the others. Though 
his hand manacled her slim wrists securely, the clasp 
was more one of protection than of restraint; and the 
warm human touch was like a talisman against the 
haunting shadows. Suddenly it came over her, in a 
burst of heavenly relief, that this hand had lifted the 
burden of vengeance forever. Even Fridtjof could not 
be so unreasonable as to ask more of her, so plainly 
was it Odin’s will that justice should be left for Canute. 
She had done her duty, and yet she was free of it — 
free of it ! Her heart burst out singing within her, and 
the eyes she raised toward her captor were adoring in 
their gratitude. 

The look she met in return was the same look 
of mingled strength and gentleness which had come 
through the starlight to answer her question. Once 
again that calm of weary trustfulness settled over her. 
Since he had saved her from the dead, she had no 
doubt whatever of his ability to save her from the 

107 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


living. Her head drooped against his arm, and her 
hands, ceasing their struggles, rested in his grasp like 
folded wings. 

It had not taken a moment; the instant Norman 
finished his explanation, the Etheling was speaking 
quietly : “ As the Lord of Baddeby says, King Edmund, 
it was I who stayed the boy’s hand, and it was I also 
who fetched him into camp. I found him after the 
battle, bleeding his life out in the bushes, and I brought 
him in my arms, like a kitten, and dropped him down 
by my fire. Waking in the night and missing him, I 
traced him hither. As I have had all to do with him 
in the past, so, if you will grant that I may keep him, 
will I take his future upon me. With your consent, I 
will attend to it that he does no more mischief.” 

A momentary cordiality came into the King’s man- 
ner; as though recognizing it for the first time, he 
turned to the figure across the fire with a courteous 
gesture. “ My lord of Ivarsdale ! I am much be- 
holden to you. Had any chance wrought evil to 
the Lord of Baddeby while under my safeguard, my 
honor would have been as deeply wounded as my 
feelings.” 

As he bowed in acknowledgment, some embarrass- 
ment was visible in Sebert’s manner ; but he was spared 
a reply, for after a moment’s rubbing of his chin, the 
King continued, — 

“ As regards the boy, however, there is something 
besides his knife to be taken into consideration. I think 
we run more risk from his tongue.” 

108 


AS THE NORNS DECREE 


The words of the Earl’s thane fairly grazed the 
heels of the King’s words : “ The imp can do no other- 
wise than harm, my sovereign. Should he bring his 
tongue to Danish ears, he could cause the utmost evil. 
For the safety of the Earl of Mercia, — ay, for your 
own need, — I entreat you to deliver the boy up to my 
keeping.” 

“ I am no less able than the Lord of Baddeby to 
restrain him,” the Etheling said with some warmth. 
“ If it be your pleasure, King Edmund, I will keep 
him under my hand until the end of the war, and 
answer for his silence with my life.” 

Then Norman’s eagerness got the better of his 
discretion. 

“ Now, by Saint Dunstan,” he cried, “ you take 
too much upon you, Lord of Ivarsdale! The boy’s 
life is forfeit to me, against whom his crime was 
directed.” A grim look squared his mouth as suddenly 
he stretched his hand past Sebert and caught the red 
cloak. 

It may have been this which the Etheling had 
foreseen, for he was not taken by surprise. Jerking 
up his sword-arm, he knocked the thane’s hand loose 
with scant ceremony. 

“ You forget the law of the battle-field, Norman 
of Baddeby,” he said swiftly. “ The life of my cap- 
tive is mine, and I am the last man to permit it to be 
taken because he sought a just revenge. I know too 
well how it feels to hate a father’s murderer.” He 
shot a baleful glance toward a half-seen figure that all 

109 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


this time had stood motionless in the shadow behind 
the King. 

Probably this figure and the Earl’s thane were the 
only hearers he was conscious of, but his tone left the 
words open to all ears. There was a sudden indraw- 
ing of many breaths, followed by a frightened silence. 
The only sound that disturbed it was a growing rustle 
in the bush around them, which was explained when 
the old cniht Morcard and some two-score armed 
henchmen and yeoman-soldiers, singly and in groups, 
filtered quietly through the shadows and placed them- 
selves at their chief’s back. 

But though the King’s brows had met for an 
instant in a lowering arch, some second thought con- 
trolled him. When he spoke, his words were even 
gracious : 

“ I think the Lord of Ivarsdale has the right of 
it. The crime the boy purposed was not carried out; 
and in each case, Lord Sebert was his captor. I am 
content to trust to his wardership.” 

Sebert’s frank face betrayed his surprise at the 
complaisance, but he gave his pledge and his thanks 
with what courtliness he could muster, and releasing 
his passive prisoner, pushed her gently into the safe- 
keeping of the old cniht. Yet he was not so obtuse 
as to step back, as though the incident were closed; 
he read the King’s inflection more correctly than 
that. Holding himself somewhat stiff in the tense- 
ness of his feelings, he stood his ground in silent 
alertness. 


no 


AS THE NORNS DECREE 


A rustle of uneasiness crept the round of the as- 
sembled nobles. Only the monarch’s bland composure 
remained unruffled. Advancing with the deliberate 
grace that so well became his mighty person, he seated 
himself upon a convenient boulder and signed the figure 
in the shadow to draw nearer. 

As it obeyed, every one of the yeomen-soldiers 
strained his eyes in that direction, as though hoping 
to surprise in the great traitor’s face some secret of 
his power, the power that had made three kings as 
wax between his fingers! But just short of the fire- 
glow the Gainer paused, and the hooded cloak which 
shrouded him merged him hopelessly into the shadow. 
Only the hand that rested on his sword-hilt protruded 
into the light. It was a broad hand, and thick-fingered 
as a butcher’s, but it was milk-white and weighted 
with massive rings. 

Meanwhile, the King was speaking affably: “ As 
you did not favor us with your presence among the 
Wise Men, my lord, it is likely that you do not know 
of the good luck which has befallen our cause. This 
prudent Earl, who before the battle had concluded with 
himself that England had so little to hope for from our 
reign that he was willing to throw his weight against 
us, has found his victory so without relish that he has 
become our sworn ally.” 

As he paused, — perhaps to leave space for an an- 
swer, — the complacency of his face was heightened by 
a smile, faintly shrewd, touching the corners of his 
mouth. But when Sebert limited his reply to a re- 


in 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


spectful inclination of his head, the smile vanished 
abruptly. Under the affability there became evident a 
certain stern insistence. 

“ In former days, I think there was some hostile 
temper between the Earl and you. But I expect you 
will see that under the stress of a foreign war all lesser 
strife must give way. So I desire that you will repeat 
in my presence the troth already plighted by these 
others.” 

He made a slight gesture, and the Gainer took a 
step forward. The light that fell back from his hooded 
face played curiously about his jewelled hand; as it 
rose from the gilded hilt, it could be seen that to 
remedy the bluntness of the thick fingers the nails had 
been allowed to grow very long, which gave it now, in 
its half-curve, the look of a claw, upon which the red 
gems shone like blood-drops. 

Hesitating, the Etheling went from red to white. 
Then, with a swift motion, he unsheathed his sword 
and stretched it out, point-foremost. 

“ King Edmund,” he said, “ in no other way does 
my hand go forth toward a traitor.” 

This time there was no sound of breaths drawn in ; 
it was as though the whole world had ceased breath- 
ing. The sternness that had underlain the King's 
manner rose slowly and spread over the whole sur- 
face of his person, as he drew himself up in towering 
offence. 

“ Lord of Ivarsdale, bethink yourself to whom you 
speak ! ” 


1 1 2 


AS THE NORNS DECREE 


He was royally imposing in his displeasure; the 
Etheling flushed like a boy before his master; but he 
had his answer ready, and his head was steadily erect 
as he gave it. 

“ King of the Angles, the right of open speech has 
belonged to my race as long as the right to the crown 
has belonged to yours. So my father’s fathers spoke 
to yours under the council-tree, and so I shall speak 
to you while I live. ,, 

Back in the shadow, each yeoman laid one hand 
upon his weapon, and with the other, thrust an exult- 
ing thumb into his neighbor’s ribs. But they did not 
turn to look at each other; every eye was fastened 
upon the two by the fire. Freeman and his leader, or 
feudal lord and his dependant? For the moment they 
stood forth as representatives of a mighty conflict, and 
every breath hung upon their motions. 

After a time the King made a slight movement 
with his shoulders. 

“ I should have remembered,” he said, “ that your 
father was ruined by rebellion.” 

In a flash the rebel’s son had forgotten boyish em- 
barrassment. “ Whoso told you that, royal lord, told 
you lies. My father stood upon his right. Steel to 
turn against the Danes, Ethelred had a right to re- 
quire; and steel my father was ready to pay. But 
Ethelred demanded gold, and the Lord of Ivarsdale 
would not stoop to bribe. Nor has it been proven 
that his policy was wrong,” he added under his 
breath. 

8 113 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Then there was no longer any doubt concerning 
the position of Ethelred’s son. He said with deliberate 
emphasis, “ The only policy which concerns those of 
your station is obedience. ,, 

If there was enough of the old free blood left in 
the King’s thanes to redden their cheeks, that was all 
there was. But while they stood in silence, a mutter 
ran like a growl through the ranks of yeomen; the 
gaze they bent upon their leader had in it almost the 
force of a command. 

He was young, their chief, too young for impas- 
sivity. Despite himself, his hands trembled with ex- 
citement. But there was no tremor in his words. 

“ We of Ivarsdale do not profess such obedience, 
King Edmund. That is for thanes and for the unfree, 
who owe their all to your generosity. Our land we 
hold as our fathers held it — from God’s bounty and 
the might of our swords. When we have paid the 
three taxes of fort-building and bridge-building and 
field-service, we have paid all that we owe to the 
State.” 

At last they stood defined, the first of the feudal 
lords and the last of the odal-born men. Even through 
the King’s loftiness it was suddenly borne in that, be- 
hind the insignificance of the revolt, loomed a mighty 
principle, mighty enough to merit force. For the first 
time he stooped to a threat, though still it was tinged 
with scorn. 

“ I observe that the men of your race have not 
been of great importance in the land. It appears that 

114 


AS THE NORNS DECREE 


Ethelred was able to do without the rebel Lord of 
Ivarsdale.” 

“ I admit that he was able to lose his crown with- 
out him,” the rebel’s son retorted swiftly. 

The King’s wounded dignity bled in his cheeks; 
he was stung into a movement that brought him to his 
feet. 

“ This is insufferable ! ” he cried. 

It was evident that the crisis had come. While 
the Etheling faced him with a defiance that in its utter 
abandon was a little mad, a sensation as of bracing 
muscles and setting teeth went around the group. Sev- 
eral of the thanes laid their hands upon their swords. 
And the half-dozen ealdormen present bent toward one 
another in hasty consultation. At an almost impercep- 
tible sign from the old cniht, the henchmen made a 
noiseless step nearer their master. There were not 
more than a dozen of them, but behind them loomed 
some two-score yeomen-soldiers, with a score more in 
the brush at their back; and the faces of all told 
more plainly than words what it would mean to attack 
them. 

But the blood of Cerdic, once fired, burned too 
rapidly for policy. Edmund’s jaw was set in savage 
menace as he turned and beckoned to his guard. Had 
he spoken the words on his lips, there is little doubt 
what his order would have been. 

Interruption came from an unexpected quarter. 
Even as his lips were opening, that white taloned hand 
reached out of the shadow and touched his arm. 

”5 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“Most royal lord! If it may be permitted me?” 
Earl Edric said swiftly. 

His voice was very low, and every roughness had 
been filed away until it flowed like oil. Upon the 
King's wounded temper it appeared to fall as softly 
as drops of healing balm. With his mouth still set, he 
paused and bent his ear. There was a murmur of whis- 
pered words. 

What they were no one ever knew, and each man 
had a different theory; but their result was plain to 
all. Slowly Edmund's knitted brows unravelled ; 
slowly his mouth relaxed into its wonted curves. At 
last he had regained all his lofty composure and turned 
back. 

“ Lord of Ivarsdale, I am not rich of time, and my 
present need is too great to spare any of it to the chas- 
tising of rebellious boys. Go back to your toy king- 
dom, and lord it over your serfs until I find leisure to 
teach you who is master.” Making a disdainful ges- 
ture of dismissal, he turned with deliberate grace and 
entered into conversation with the Mercian. 

At the moment, it is likely that the young noble 
would have preferred arrest. The utter scorn of word 
and act lashed the blood to his cheeks and the tears 
to his eyes. With boyish passion, he snatched the 
sword from its sheath, and breaking it in pieces across 
his knee, flung the fragments clinking into the dead 
embers. 

But if he had hoped to provoke an answer, it was 
in vain ; the King deigned him no further notice. Re- 

116 


AS THE NORNS DECREE 


suming his seat, Edmund continued to talk quietly with 
the Earl, a half-smile playing about his complacent 
chin. 

The old cniht bent forward and whispered in his 
chief’s ear : “ Make haste, Lord Sebert ; they will be 
cheering in a moment, the churls; so pleased are they 
at the thought of going home. Hasten with your 
retiring.” 

It was a clever appeal. Forgetting, for the mo- 
ment, humiliation in responsibility, the young leader 
whirled to his men. A gesture, a muttered order, and 
they were drawing back among the trees in silent re- 
treat. A few steps more, and the bushes had blotted 
out the Ironside and his thanes. 


CHAPTER XI 


WHEN MY LORD COMES HOME FROM WAR 


One’s own house is best, 

Small though it be ; 

At home is every one his own master. 

Bleeding at heart is he 

Who has to ask 

For food at every mealtide. 

HAVAMAL. 



LOWLY the bleak light 
warmed into golden radi- 
ance, and the touch of dawn 
the scattered bird- 
notes into a chain of joy- 
ous song. Passing at last 
the forest shades, the 
men of Ivarsdale came out 
into the grassy lane-like 
that wound away over 


the Middlesex hills. 

The Destroyer had not passed this way, it seemed, 
for the oat-fields stretched before them in unbroken 
silvery sheen; and the straight young corn dared to 
rustle its green ribbons boastfully. Fowls still uncap- 
tured crowed lustily in adjacent barnyards; and now 

1 18 



WHEN MY LORD COMES HOME FROM WAR 


and again, sweet as echoes from elfin horns, came the 
tinkling music of cow-bells. Here and there, the little 
shock-headed boys who were driving their charges 
afield paused knee-deep in rosy clover to watch the 
band ride by. 

“ Yon must be a mighty warrior,” they whispered 
as they stared at the sober young leader. “ Take no- 
tice how his eyes gaze straight ahead, as though he 
were seeking more people to overcome. ,, And they 
spoke enviously of the red-cloaked page who sat on 
the croup of the leader’s white charger. 

“ See the sword he wears in his gay clothes. 
Likely he also has been in battle. He must needs be 
happy who can strike out into the world like that.” 
Envying, they gazed after him until the horses’ hoofs 
threw up a yellow wall between. 

They would have opened their wide mouths wider 
had they known that the red-cloaked page was look- 
ing wistfully at them and their kine and the nodding 
clover. 

“ It must be very enjoyable to wander all day in 
the peace of the meadows and hear nothing louder than 
cow-bells,” she was thinking. “ It is good to see crea- 
tures that no man is stabbing or doing harm to.” 

Through warm sunshine, tempered by fresh breezes, 
they came yet deeper into the drowsy farmland. Grad- 
ually the yeomen-soldiers, who had been wrangling 
over the mystery of Edric’s actions, dropped one by 
one into lazy silence, or set their tongues to whistling 
cleverly turned answers to the bird-calls in the hedges. 

119 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Another mile, and from somewhere in the fields came 
the swinging chant of a ploughman, as he turned the 
soil between the rows of rustling corn, — 

“ Hail, Mother Earth, thou feeder of folk ! 

Be thou growing, by goodness of God, 

Filled with fodder, the folk to feed.” 

Like the unbinding of a spell, the words fell upon 
the farmer-soldiers. Dropping every other topic, they 
began to argue over the crops; and after that they 
could not pass a harmless calf tethered to a crab-tree 
that they did not quarrel over the breed, nor start a 
drove of grunting swine out of the mast but they must 
lay wagers on the weight. 

Running wild in the animation, it was not long 
before the clamor caught up with the Etheling where 
he rode before them in sober reflection. He smiled 
faintly as he caught the burden of the disjointed 
phrases. 

“ . . . Twelve stone; I will peril my head upon 
it!” . . . “ Yorkshire, I tell you, Yorkshire.” . . . “ A 
fortnight? It will be ready in a week, or I have never 
grown barley corn ! ” 

“ I do not believe that a tree-toad can change color 
more easily,” he observed to the old cniht who rode at 
his side. “ That Englishmen are not stout fighters, no 
man can say, but the love of it is not in their breasts; 
while with Northmen — ” 

“With Northmen,” Morcard added, “to fight is 
to eat.” 


120 


WHEN MY LORD COMES HOME FROM WAR 


Another faint smile touched Sebert’s mouth as 
he glanced over his shoulder at the red-cloaked boy. 
“ After seeing this sprout, that is easy to believe. Ex- 
cept that time alone when a two-year-old colt kicked 
me on the head, I have never had my life threatened 
by so young a thing. ,, 

He grew grave again as his glance rested on his 
captive. “ I want you to tell me something,” he said 
presently. “You were Canute’s page; I saw that you 
accompanied him in battle. I want you to tell me what 
he is like in his temper.” 

“ It would be more easy to tell you what he is 
unlike,” Randalin answered slowly ; “ for in no way 
whatever is he like your King Edmund.” She sat 
awhile in silence, her eyes absently following the 
course of the wind over a slope of bending, grain. At 
the foot, it caught a clump of willow-trees so that they 
flashed with hidden silver and tossed their slender arms 
like dancers. “ I think this is the difference, to tell it 
shortly,” she said at last ; “ while it sometimes hap- 
pens that Canute is driven by necessity or evil coun- 
sels to act deceitfully toward others, he is always 
honest in his own mind ; while your Edmund, — I 
think he lies to himself also.” 

Morcard gave out a dry chuckle. “ By Saint Cuth- 
bert,” he muttered, “ too much has not been told con- 
cerning the sharpness of children ! ” 

But the Etheling made no answer whatever. After 
he had ridden a long time staring away across the fields, 
he met the old man’s eyes gravely. 




I 2 I 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ It is not alone because I am sore under his 
tongue, Morcard. Were he what I had thought him, 
I would remain quiet under harder words. But he is 
not worth enduring from; there is not enough good in 
him to outweigh the evil.” 

Old Morcard said thoughtfully : “ The tree of 

Cerdic has borne many nuts with prickly rinds in 
former times, but there has been wont to be good meat 
inside. Since Ethelred, I have been in fear that the 
tree is dying at the root.” 

They swung over another piece of the road in 
silence, when the young man started up and shook 
himself impatiently. 

“Wel-a-way! What use to think of it? For the 
present, at least, I am a lordless man. Let us speak 
of the defences we must begin to raise against Ed- 
mund’s coming.” 

While they discussed watch-towers and barriers, 
the horses took them along at a swinging pace. The 
heath-clad upland over which they were passing 
sloped into another fertile valley, through which a 
lily-padded stream ran between rows of drooping wil- 
lows. Suddenly the Lord of Ivarsdale broke off with 
an exclamation. 

“ It was not in my mind that we could see the old 
forked elm from here. Hey, comrades ! ” he called over 
his shoulder. “Yonder — to the left — the old land- 
mark! Do you see?” His glance, as it came back, 
took in his captive. “ The first bar of your cage, my 
hawk. Yonder is the first boundary of Ivarsdale.” 

122 


WHEN MY LORD COMES HOME FROM WAR 

Every man started up in his saddle, and the cheers 
they had held back upon leaving camp burst forth now 
with added zest. Peering over her captor’s shoulder, 
Randalin looked forward anxiously. 

Below the plain in whose centre the old elm held 
up its blasted top to be silvered by the sun, the land 
dipped abruptly toward the river, to rise beyond in a 
long low hill. Rolling green meadows lay at its foot, 
and warm brown fields dotted with thatched farm- 
houses; and its sides were checkered with patches of 
woodland and stretches of golden barley. Just below 
the crest, the tower of the Lords of Ivarsdale reared 
its gray walls above the surrounding greenery. Far 
away, a speck through the dark foliage, the great Lon- 
don road gleamed white ; but wooded hills made a shel- 
tering hedge between, and all around spread the great 
beech forest that fostered the markmen’s herds. It 
was a kingdom to itself, with the light slanting warmly 
upon its fertile slopes and the forest standing like a 
strong army at its back. 

Because it was so peacefully lovely, and because 
of her utter weariness, tears welled up under the girl’s 
heavy lids as she looked. 

She said unsteadily, “ Saw I never a fairer cage, 
lord.” 

But the Etheling’s eager glance had travelled on; 
for the first time the sun was shining out brightly in 
his face. 

“ The sight has more cheer than has wine,” he said. 
“ I cannot comprehend my folly in wanting to leave it. 

123 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


To live one’s own master on one’s own land, that is the 
only life !” He looked back at the yeomen with a sudden 
smile. “Noise!” he ordered. “Cheer again! it expresses 
the state of my feelings. And let your horn sound 
merrily, Kendred, that they may know we are coming.” 

Amid a joyous tumult, they swept over the terrace- 
like plain and broke ranks around the old elm. Evi- 
dently it was the disbanding place, for the yeomen- 
soldiers, one and all, came crowding around their 
leader to press his hand and speak a parting word. 

“ You have fought with the sword of your tongue, 
chief !”...“ as worthy a battle as when you strove 
against the Danes !”...“ The spirit of the old days 
is not dead while you are alive, Oswald’s son.” . . . 
“None now are born thereto save you alone!” . . . 
“ Till that time when you send for us, my chief.” 
. . . “ One eye on our ploughs and one watching for 
your messenger.” . . . “God keep you in safety, young 
lord!” 

In the meadows beyond the stream, little shepherd 
boys had heard the horn and were swarming, spider- 
like, over the hedges, sending up shrill shouts. And 
now women came running across the fields from the 
farmhouses, waving their aprons. More children raced 
behind them; and then a dozen old men, limping and 
hobbling on crutches and canes. A moment, and they 
were all over the foot-bridge and up the slope ; and the 
sweet clamor of greetings was added to the tumult. 
Now it was a crowd of little brothers throwing them- 
selves upon a big one; now a blooming lass flinging 

124 


WHEN MY LORD COMES HOME FROM WAR 


her arms around her sweetheart’s neck; and again, a 
farmer’s little daughter leaping joyously into her 
father’s embrace. 

In the midst of it, the Lord of Ivarsdale looked 
around and found that Fridtjof the page was crying as 
though his heart would break. 

“ How! Tears, my Beowulf!” he said in amazement. 

She was far beyond words, the girl in the page’s 
dress ; she could only bury her face deeper in her slen- 
der hands and try to control the sobs that shook her 
from head to foot. 

But it was not long before the young man’s kind- 
ness divined the source of her pain. He spoke a quick 
word to those behind, and waving aside those before, 
touched spur to the white horse. In a moment, the 
good steed had borne them out of the crowd and down 
the slope, followed only by the old cnihts and the 
dozen armed retainers. 

As the hoofs rang hollow on the little bridge that 
spanned the stream, the Etheling spoke again in his 
voice of careless gentleness. “ It is easy to enter into 
the sorrowfulness of your heart, youngling, and I think 
it no dishonor to your courage that you should mourn 
your kin with tears; yet I pray you to lay aside as 
much grief as you can. Bear in mind that no dungeon 
is gaping for you.” 

She could not speak to him yet, but when he put 
his hand back to feel of a strap, she bent and touched 
the brown fingers gratefully with her lips. The an- 
swer seemed to renew his kindly impulse. 

125 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“After all, you should not feel so strange among 
us,” he said lightly. “ Do you know that it was one 
of your own countrymen who built the Tower? Ivar 
Wide-Fathomer he was named, whence it is still called 
Ivarsdale. He was of the stock of Lodbrok, they say; 
and it is said, too, that one of his race is even now with 
Canute. Since Alfred, my fathers have had possession 
of it, but it is Danish-built, every stone. You must 
make believe that you are coming home.” So he spun 
on, carelessly good-humored, as they climbed the wind- 
ing hill-path. 

Across the ditch and through the wide-open gate 
in the moss-grown palisade, and they came into a 
broad grassy space that was more like a lawn than 
a court. Ahead of them rose the massive three- 
storied tower, built of mighty gray stones without 
softening wings or adorning spires, beautiful only in 
its mantling ivy. From the great door in its side a 
crowd of serfs came running, ducking grinning salu- 
tations; and they were followed by a half-dozen old 
warriors. Seized by a boyish whim, their master 
rode past them with no more than a wave of his 
hand. 

“ If we make haste, it may be that we can take 
Hildelitha and Father Ingulph by surprise,” he laughed, 
leaping down on the crumbling doorstep and pulling 
his captive with him. 

In the tunnel-like arch of the great entrance 
they met another throng, but he shook them off with 
good-natured impatience and hurried through the great 

126 


WHEN MY LORD COMES HOME FROM WAR 


guard-room to the winding stairs, that were cut out 
of the core of the massive stones. Up and across 
another mighty hall, and then up again, and into a 
great women’s-room, full of looms and spinning-wheels, 
where a buxom English housewife and half-a-dozen 
red-cheeked maids were gaping over their distaffs at 
the tale a jolly old monk was telling between swallows 
of wine. 

He choked in his cup when he saw who stood laugh- 
ing in the doorway, and there was a great screaming 
and scrambling among his audience. Knocking over 
her spinning-wheel to get to him, the woman Hildelitha 
threw her arms around her young lord’s neck and gave 
him a hearty smack on either cheek; while the fat 
monk sputtered blessings between his paroxysms of 
coughing, and the six blooming girls made a scream- 
ing circle around them. 

Though he endured it amiably enough, the Ethel- 
ing appeared in some haste to offer a diversion. He 
evaded a second embrace by turning and beckoning 
to his shrinking captive. 

“ Save a little of your greeting for my guest, good 
nurse. Behold the fire-eating Dane that I have cap- 
tured with my own right arm ! ” As the red-cloaked 
figure still hung back, he pulled it gently forward until 
the light of the notched candles fell brightly on the 
face, pitifully white for all its blood-stains, in the frame 
of tumbled black tresses. 

“A Dane?” the women cried shrilly; then, with 
equal unanimity, burst out laughing. 

127 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Randalin drew a little nearer the Etheling’s shel- 
tering side. He said half reprovingly, half freakishly, 
“ It would not be well for you to anger him. He is 
the page of Canute himself, a real Wandering Wolf, 
and recks not whom he attacks. He came near to 
spitting Oslac at the battle, and even threatened me.” 

“ Oslac ! ” screamed one of the serving-maids, turn- 
ing very red. “ The murderous little fiend ! ” 

“ He deserves to have his neck wrung ! ” two more 
cried out. 

And Father Ingulph cleared his throat loudly. 
“ Well-fitting is your charity both toward my teach- 
ings and your heart, my son ; and yet — Discretion is 
the mother of other virtues. To bring one of those 
roving children of Satan into a Christian household 
will lay upon me a responsibility which — which — ” 
He paused to take a mouthful of wine and eye the 
stranger over the goblet rim with much disfavor. 

While the maids whispered excitedly in one an- 
other’s ears, Hildelitha began to sniff behind her 
apron. 

“ I do not see why you wanted to bring him home, 
Lord Sebert. You know that Danes are odious to me 
since my husband, of holy memory, fell under their 
axes — most detestable — Yet I would not anger you, 
my honey-sweet lord,” she broke off abruptly. 

For the Lord of Ivarsdale had suddenly grown 
very stiff and grave; there was something curiously 
haughty in the quiet distinctness of his words. 

“ I have brought the boy home by reason of the 
128 


WHEN MY LORD COMES HOME FROM WAR 


King’s command that he be held in safety — and be- 
cause it was my pleasure to succor him. And I have 
fetched him up here in order that you should supply 
his needs, being distressed for want of food and drink 
and healing salves. I am not pleased that you should 
meet my wishes in so light and cold a manner. I de- 
sire your love will, as is becoming, receive him kindly 
and charitably.” 

He raised his hand as the pertest of the maids 
would have answered him, and there followed an un- 
comfortable pause. Then seven gowns swept the reed- 
strewn floor as seven courtesies fell, and Hildelitha 
thrust out her palm to give the pert maid, a resounding 
box on the ear. 

“You have heard your master, hussy! Why do 
you not exert yourself to bring food? Elswitha, if you 
do not want the mate to that, fetch the salve out of my 
chest.” 

In an instant all was confusion; under cover of it 
the fat monk returned to his cup and the young master 
walked quietly to the door. 

Homesick and heartsick, the waif in the page’s 
dress was left facing the unfriendly glances. Even in 
her bravest days, she had never known what it was to 
be disliked, and now — ! Suddenly she limped after 
her friend and caught at his cloak. 

“ Let me go with you,” she cried. “ I beseech it 
of you! I want not their service.” 

After a moment, the Etheling threw his arm pro- 
tectingly around the boyish figure. 

9 129 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ I do not blame you, poor youngling,” he said. 
“ I was wrong to treat you as a child when you were 
bred up as a man. You shall have a bed in the closet 
off my chamber, and they shall not enter except as you 
will it. And you shall eat off my plate and drink from 
my cup. Come ! ” 


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CHAPTER XII 


THE FOREIGN PAGE 

Early should rise 
He who has few workers, 

And go his work to see to ; 

Greatly is he retarded 
Who sleeps the morn away; 

Wealth half depends on energy. 

HAVAMAL. 



T was August, when Mother 
Earth had nearly completed 
her task of providing for her 
children, and the excitement 
of a mighty work drawing 
to its close was in the air; 
when the sun-warmed still- 
ness was a-quiver with the 
of growing things 
coming to their strength, 
every cloudless day held in its golden heart a 
song of exultation. The grassy space around the 
Tower, which was wont to be thronged with joyous 
idlers, was to-day almost deserted. A single groom 
lounged in the shade of the wide-spreading trees as he 
kept a lazy eye on the croppings of two saddled horses, 
and an endless chain of fagot-laden serfs plodded joy- 


131 





THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


lessly across the open. On one side of the great en- 
trance arch a half-dozen of the manor poor gabbled and 
basked in the sun while they waited to receive their 
daily dole of food; on the other, a dark-locked foreign 
page sat on the mossy step abiding the coming of his 
master. 

Leaning back with one arm bent carelessly behind 
his head and one hand caressing a shaggy hound that 
pressed against his knee, the boy’s far-away gaze was 
designed to intimate his haughty oblivion to the castle- 
world in general and the movements of the almsfolk 
in particular. Seeing which, the people on the other 
side of the step had laid aside any reserve they might 
have felt and were indulging their curiosity with cheer- 
ful freedom. 

“ Six weeks he has been here, and this is the first 
good look I have had at him,” the buzzing whispers 
ran. “ It is said that they were obliged to catch him 
between shields before they could take him.” . . . 
“ Such hair on a Dane is more rare than a white 
crow.” . . . “ I believe no good of any one with locks 
of that color.” . . . “ Tibby, the weaving- woman, says 
he is skilful in magic.” . . . “ It is by reason of that, 
that he has become my lord’s darling.” . . . “ Why is 
he not in the hall, then, while the ethel-born is sitting 
at table?” . . . “Perhaps his luck is beginning to fail 
him.” . . . “ Perhaps he has fallen out of favor.” 

The two old men who offered these last sugges- 
tions chuckled with malicious enjoyment, and two of 
the old women mumbled with their toothless gums as 

132 


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though tasting sweet morsels; but the third drew her- 
self up with a kind of grotesque coquetry. 

“You can tell by the green silk of his tunic that 
he is of some quality,” she reproved them. “ Danish- 
men are ever the ones to adorn themselves. It occurs 
to my mind how, in Edgar’s time, when I was a girl, 
one was quartered in my father’s house. He changed 
his raiment once a day and bathed every Sunday. I 
used to comb his yellow hair when I took in his ale, 
of a morning.” Long after her voice had passed into 
a rattle, she stood in a simpering revery, her palsied 
hands resting heavily upon her stick, her blinking eyes 
fixed on the picturesque young foreigner musing in the 
sunshine. 

Then the voice of the steward sounded sharply in 
the archway. There was an eager catching up of bags 
and baskets, a shuffling forward of unsteady feet, and 
the goody came out of her day-dream to throw herself 
into the strife over a jar of peppered broth. 

The Danish page bent to pillow a very red cheek 
on the soft cushion of the dog’s head, then drew back 
and straightened himself stiffly as a strapping serving- 
lass, flagon-laden, came out of the door behind him. 
She saw the motion and looked down with a teasing 
laugh. “ Aha, young Fridtjof! How do you like being 
sent to cool your heels on the doorstep while your 
master eats? What! I think that the next time you 
thrust your foot out to trip me up as I hand my 
lord his ale, you will attend to keeping it under your 
stool.” 


i33 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Young Fridtjof regarded her with a kind of right- 
eous indignation. “ And I think that the next time you 
will look where you are going, even if it happen that 
it is Lord Sebert’s ale you are bearing. Silly jades, 
that cannot come nigh him without biting your lips or 
sparkling your eyes ! I wonder he does not clap masks 
over your faces.” 

“And I wonder he does not clap rods to your back,” 
the lass retorted with sudden spite. She flounced past 
him down the step, on her way to the great lead-roofed 
storehouse that flanked the forest side of the Tower. 

The boy looked after her sternly. “ It is likely 
that you will be less pert of tongue after I tell what I 
found out in the corn-bins yesterday,” he said. 

The maid whirled. “ What did you find out, you 
mischief-full brat? ” 

He continued to stroke the dog’s head in dignified 
silence. 

“ If you mean the — the brown-cloaked beggar, let 
me inform you that that is naught.” 

Busying himself with pulling burrs from the 
hound’s ears, the page began to hum softly. 

She came a step nearer, and her voice wheedled. 
“ It was only that he was distressed for want of drink, 
poor fellow, and followed me into the storehouse when 
he saw me go in to fill the master’s flagon. It was 
naught but a swallow. My lord would be the last to 
grudge a harmless body — ” 

“Harmless? ’’the page said sternly. “Did I not hear 
him tell you the same as that he was an English spy? ” 

i34 


THE FOREIGN PAGE 


The girl abandoned the last shred of her dignity, 
to come and stand before him, nervously fingering her 
apron. “ For the dear saints’ sake, let no one hear you 
say that, good Fridtjof! Alas, how you have got it 
twisted! He is an Englishman who bent his head for 
food in the evil days. And now they that bought him 
will not set him loose, so he has cast off their yoke and 
fled to the Danes to get freedom and fortune. He was 
on his way to join your people when he stopped to beg 
food. I could not be so hard of heart as to refuse, 
though Hildelitha’s hand would be hot about my ears 
did she suspect it. Say that you will hold your tongue, 
sweet lad, and I will make boot with anything you like.” 

He was very deliberate about it, the page, pursing 
his rosy mouth into any number of judicial puckers; 
but at last he conceded, “ Now, since you know for 
certain that he is not one of Edmund’s spies, — and 
you are so penitent, as is right,” — pausing, he regarded 
her severely, — “ if I do promise, will you make a bar- 
gain to put an end to your silly behavior toward my 
lord? Will you undertake to deliver his dishes into 
my hands, and leave it for me to pass his cup? ” 

“Yes, in truth; by Father Ingulph’s book!” the 
maid cried, wringing her hands. 

The page made her a magnanimous gesture. “ In 
that case I will not be so mean as to refuse you,” he 
consented. And he sat smiling to himself in sly con- 
tent after she had hurried away. 

Emboldened by that smile, the dog suddenly laid 
aside his soberness of demeanor. Pouncing upon a 

i35 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


fagot which had fallen from one of the loads, he 
brought it in his teeth, with shining eyes and much 
frantic tail-wagging, and rubbed it against his friend’s 
knee. He had not miscalculated. The boy’s smile 
deepened easily into a laugh, and he leaped to his feet 
to accept the challenge. Seizing the stick, he put all 
the strength of his lithesome body into an effort to 
make off with it, while the great hound braced him- 
self, with a rapture of rumbling growls and short de- 
lighted barks. So they tussled, back and forth, this 
way and that, amid a merry tumult of barking and 
laughter, — such a tumult that neither heard the steps 
that both were waiting for, when at last those steps 
came briskly through the archway. The first they 
knew of it, the Lord of Ivarsdale was standing under 
the lintel, chatting with those who came behind him. 

With lips yet parted by their breathless laughter, 
the lad straightened quickly from his sport, and stood 
shaking back his tumbling curls and mopping his hot 
face, in which the rich color glowed through the tanned 
skin like the velvety red on a golden peach. When, 
for one flashing instant, they encountered a keen glance 
from the young lord, the color deepened, and the iris- 
blue eyes suddenly brimmed over with mischievous 
sparkles ; then the black lashes were lowered demurely, 
and the page, retreating to his place beside the step, 
signified only deference and decorum. 

Followed by old Morcard and the fat monk, the 
Etheling descended from the doorway and stood on the 
broad step, shading his eyes from the glare of brilliant 

136 


THE FOREIGN PAGE 


light while he looked about him with evident pleasure 
in the fairness of the day. 

“ Now is the time to lay by a store of sweet 
memories against the stress of winter weather,” he 
said. “ Whither do you go to harvest the sunshine, 
father? ” 

The monk pulled his round red face to a devout 
length. “ Why, there is a good woman at the other 
end of the dale, my son, that labors under a weakness 
of her limbs; and I have bethought me that it would 
be a Christian act to fetch her this holy relique I wear 
about my neck, that she may lay it upon the afflicted 
members and perhaps, aided by my exhortations, ex- 
perience some relief.” 

“ If the question may be permitted me, whither 
do you betake yourself, my lord?” the old cniht 
asked. 

With the light wand he carried, the young man 
made a gesture quite around the horizon. “ Every- 
where and nowhere. After I have been to see what 
they are doing with that portion of the palisade which 
I bade them repair as soon as they had finished the 
barrier, I am — ” 

“ That is something that had clean fallen out of 
my mind to tell you, Lord Sebert,” Morcard spoke up 
hastily. “ Yesterday, before you had got in from hunt- 
ing, Kendred of Hazelford came, as spokesman for the 
rest, to say that inasmuch as the Barn Month is well 
begun, it will not be possible for them to labor more 
upon the building; and, by your leave, they will put 

i37 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


off this, which is not pressing, until after the time of 
the harvest. ,, 

It was several moments before the Etheling spoke, 
and then his voice was noticeably deliberate. “ Oh ! ” 
he said, “ so they ask my leave, but stop at their 
pleasure? ” 

“ My lord ! ” — the old man looked at him in sur- 
prise — “they act only according to custom. Surely 
you would not have them neglect the harvest, which 
waits no man’s leisure, to put to their hands as laborers 
when there is no present need, now that they have com- 
pleted the barriers by the stream? What present harm 
because the drain off the hill has rotted the palisade? 
All of that part is toward the forest. How? Do you 
expect some Grendel of the March to fall upon us from 
that direction? ” 

The Etheling smiled against his will. “ Our foe 
would needs be a Grendel to reach us from that side.” 
He struck the wand sharply against his riding-boots. 
“ Oh, it is not that I think the work so pressing.” 

“ In the Fiend’s name, what then is the cause of 
your distemper? ” Father Ingulph inquired impatiently, 
as he finished the girding-up of his robes and picked 
up his staff preparatory to setting forth. 

After a moment, the young noble began to laugh. 
“ Why, to tell it frankly, methinks it is more temper 
than distemper. That they should take it upon them 
to decide how much of my order is necessary — ” He 
let a pause finish for him, and suddenly he turned with 
a flourish of gay defiance : “ I will tell you how I am 

i3 8 


THE FOREIGN PAGE 


going to spend my morning, Morcard. I am going to 
ride over every acre that is under my hand and see 
how much I can spare for loan-land. And when I have 
found out, I will rent every furlong to boors who shall 
be bound to pay me service, not when it best pleases 
them, but whensoever I stand in need of it.” 

Rubbing his chin, the monk heard him in silence; 
but the old warrior grew momentarily grave. “ Take 
care that you seem not over proud, young lord. It is 
in such a mood that Edmund creates thanes.” 

It may be that the Etheling’s eyes widened for an 
instant, but directly after he laughed with gay per- 
verseness. “ Is it? ” he said. “ Then, for the first time 
in six weeks, I see that the Ironside is cunning in 
thought.” 

Shaking his head, Father Ingulph moved down the 
step. “ Nay, if you are in that humor, my son, I waste 
no breath. Speed you well, and may you wax in 
wisdom!” With a gesture, half paternal, half re- 
spectful, he betook himself across the grass to the 
gate. 

Old Morcard turned and stepped up into the door- 
way, from which he looked down indulgently upon his 
laughing master. “ It happened formerly, Lord Sebert, 
that I knew how to command your earnestness, and 
that speedily; but that time has long gone by. Me- 
thinks I can accomplish more among the watchmen 
upon the platform. By your leave, my lord ! ” Bow- 
ing, he disappeared in the dark tunnel of the archway, 
and the Etheling was left alone save for the graceful 

i39 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


figure awaiting him beside the step. The instant he 
moved, it sprang forward. 

“ Lord, is it your wish that I get the horses? ” 

As the old man had looked down upon the young 
one, so now the young man stood looking down upon 
the boy, regarding him with tolerant severity. “ You 
most mischief-full elf ! ” he said. “ It would be treating 
you deservedly were I to leave you at home. ,, 

It did not appear that the lad was seriously cast 
down; a betraying dimple came out and played in his 
cheek, though his mouth struggled for gravity. “ That 
is unjustly spoken, lord,” he protested. “ Did I not 
bear my punishment with befitting penitence?” 

“ Penitence ! ” the Etheling gave one of the small 
ears a menacing pull as he descended to the grass. 
“ What ! Do you think I did not see your antics 
with the dog? You made a jest of the matter, you 
pixie ! ” 

The page sobered. “ I think it great luck that I 
could, Lord Sebert! Your servants were eager in mak- 
ing a jest of me when they got the courage from your 
displeasure.” 

But Lord Sebert reached out the wand and gave 
him a gentle stroke across the shoulders. 

“ Take that for your foolishness,” he said lightly. 
“ What matters their babble when you know how safe 
you sit in my favor? ” 

Through lowered lashes the boy stole him a glance, 
half mischievous, half coaxing. “ How safe, lord? ” 
he murmured. 


140 


THE FOREIGN PAGE 


But the Etheling only laughed at him, as he 
drew up his long riding-boots and readjusted his belt. 
“ Safe enough so that I forgive you some dozen 
floggings a day, you imp; and choose you for my 
comrade when I should be profiting by the compan- 
ionship of your betters. Waste no more golden mo- 
ments on whims, youngling, but go bid them fetch 
the horses, and we will have another day of blithe 
wandering.” 

Blithe they were, in truth, as they cantered through 
shaded lanes and daisied meadows, nothing too small 
to be of interest or too slight to give them pleasure. 
An orchard of pears, whose ripening they were watch- 
ing with eager mouths, a group of colts almost ready 
for the saddle, — for the young master the fascination 
of ownership gave them all a value; while another 
fascination made his companion hang on his least word, 
respond to his lightest mood. 

By grassy commons and rolling meadows sweet 
with clustering haycocks, they came at last to the 
crest of the hill that guarded the eastern end of the 
dale. The whole round sweep of the horizon lay about 
them in an unbroken chain of ripening vineyards and 
rich timber-land, of grain-fields and laden orchards; 
not one spot that did not make glorious pledges to the 
harvest time. Drinking its fairness with his eyes, the 
lord of the manor sighed in full content. “ When I see 
how fine a thing it is to cause wealth to be where be- 
fore was nothing, I cannot understand how I once 
thought to find my pleasure only in destroying,” he 

141 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


said. “ Next month, when the barley beer is brewed, 
we will have a harvest feast plentiful enough to flesh 
even your bones, you bodkin ! ” 

The Danish page laughed as he dodged the pla- 
guing wand. “ It is true that you owe something to 
my race, lord. He had great good sense, the Wide- 
Fathomer, to stretch his strips of oxhide around this 
dale and turn it into an odal.’ , 

“ Nay now, it was Alfred who had sense to take 
it away from him,” the Etheling teased. 

But the boy shook back his long tresses in airy 
defiance. “ Then will Canute be foremost in wisdom, 
for soon he will get it back, together with all England. 
Remember who got the victory last week at Brent- 
ford, lord.” 

In the midst of his exulting, a cloud came over 
the young Englishman’s smile. “ I would I knew the 
truth concerning that,” he said slowly. “ The man who 
passes to-day says one thing; whoso comes to-morrow 
tells another story. Yet since Canute is once more 
free to beset London — ” He did not finish, and for 
a while it appeared as though he did not see the sunlit 
fields his eyes were resting on. 

But suddenly the boy broke in upon him with a 
burst of stifled laughter. “ Look, lord ! In yonder 
field, behind the third haycock ! ” 

The moment that he had complied, laughter ban- 
ished the Etheling’s meditations. Cozily ensconced in 
the soft side of a haycock was Father Ingulph, a couple 
of jovial harvesters sprawled beside him, a fat skin of 

142 


THE FOREIGN PAGE 


ale in his hands on its way to his mouth. As the pair 
on the hilltop looked down, one of the trio began to 
bellow out a song that bore no resemblance whatever 
to a hymn. Keeping under cover of the bushes, the 
eavesdroppers laughed with malicious enjoyment. 

“ But I will make him squirm for that ! ” the Ethel- 
ing vowed. “ I will tell him that your paganism has 
made spells over me so that I cannot tell a holy relique 
from an ale-skin; and a bedridden woman looks to me 
like two strapping yeomen. I will, I swear it ! ” 

“ And I shall be able to hold it against him as a 
shield, the next time he is desirous to fret me about 
taking a new belief,” the boy rejoiced. 

But presently Sebert’s remarks began to take a 
new tone. “ They have the appearance of relishing 
what they have in that skin,” he observed first. And 
then, “ I should not mind putting my own teeth into 
that bread-and-cheese.” And at last, “By Saint Swithin, 
lad, I think they have more sense than we, that lin- 
ger a half-hour’s ride from food with a noonday sun 
standing in the sky ! It is borne in upon me that I am 
starving.” 

Backing his horse out of the brush, he was putting 
him about in great haste, when the boy leaped in his 
stirrups and clapped his hands. 

“ Lord, we need not be a half-hour from food ! 
Yonder, across the stubble, is a farmhouse. If you 
would consent that I might use your name, then would 
I ride thither and get their best, and serve it to you 
here in the elves’ own feast-hall.” 

i43 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


The answer was a slap on the green shoulders that 
nearly tumbled their owner from the saddle. “ Now, I 
was right to call you elf, for you have more than human 
cleverness ! ” the Etheling cried gayly. “ Do so, by all 
means, dear lad; and I promise in return that I will 
tell every puffed-up dolt at home that you are the 
blithest comrade who ever fitted himself to man’s 
moods. There, if that contents you, give wings to 
your heels ! ” 


144 


CHAPTER XIII 


WHEN MIGHT MADE RIGHT 


Now may we understand 
That men’s wisdom 
And their devices 
And their councils 
Are like naught 
'Gainst God’s resolve. 

SAXON CHRONICLE. 


HAT difference that, some- 
where beyond the hills, 
men were fighting and 
castles were burning? At 
Ivarsdale, in the shelter and 
cheer of the lord’s great 
hall, the feast of the barley 
beer was at its height. 
While one set of serfs bore 
away the remnants of roast 
and loaf and sweetmeat, another carried around the 
brimming horns ; and to the sound of cheers and hand- 
clapping, the gleeman moved forward toward the harp 
that awaited him by the fireside. 

Where the glow lay rosiest, the young lord sat in 
the great raised chair, jesting with his Danish page 
who knelt on the step at his side. Now the boy’s an- 
io 145 



THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


swering provoked him to laughter, and he put out a 
hand and tousled the thick curls in his favorite caress. 
One of the tresses caught in his jewelled ring; and as 
he bent to unfasten it, he stared at the wavy mass in 
lazy surprise. It was as soft and rich as the breast of 
a blackbird, and the fire had laid over it a sheen of 
rainbow lights. 

“ Never did I think there could be any black hair 
so alluring,” he said involuntarily. 

He could not see how the face under the dark veil 
grew suddenly as bright as though the sun had risen 
in it. And the lad said, rather breathlessly, “ I wonder 
at your words, lord. You know that such hair is the 
curse of black elves.” 

Leaning back in his chair, the Etheling shook his 
head in whimsical obstinacy. “ Not so, not so,” he 
persisted. “ It has to it more lustre than has yellow. 
My lady-love shall have just such locks.” 

He had a glimpse like the flash of a bluebird’s 
wing in the sun, as the page glanced up at him, and the 
sight of a face grown suddenly rose-red. Then the boy 
turned shyly, and slipping back to his cushion on the 
step, nestled himself against the chair-arm with a sigh 
that was almost pathetic in its happiness. 

Like a quieting hand, the first of the mellow 
chords fell upon the noise of the revel. The servants 
bearing away the dishes began to tread the rushes 
on tiptoe, and a dozen frowns rebuked any clatter. 
Through the hush, the gleeman began to sing the 
“ Romance of King Offa,” the king who married a 

146 



“ Within sound of the mellow harp music it was balmiest spring-time.” 



















WHEN MIGHT MADE RIGHT 


wood nymph for dear love’s sake. It began with the 
wooing and the winning, out in the leafy greenwood 
amid bird-voices and murmuring brooks; but before 
long the enmity of the queen-mother entered, with jar- 
ring discords, to send the lovers through bitter trials. 
Lord and page, man and maid and serf, strained eye 
and ear toward the harper’s tattered figure. So breath- 
less grew the listening stillness that the crackling of 
the fire became an annoyance. What matter that out- 
side an autumn wind was howling through the forest 
and stripping the leaves through the vines? Within 
sound of the mellow harp-music it was balmiest spring- 
time, as the castlefolk followed the gleeman over the 
hills and dales of a flowering dream-world. 

For a space after he had finished, the silence re- 
mained unbroken, then gave way only to an outburst 
of applause. And one did even better than applaud. 
Bending forward, his beautiful face quite radiant with 
his pleasure, the curly-headed page pulled a golden ring 
from his pouch and tossed it into the harper’s lap. 

As he caught the largess, the man’s mouth broad- 
ened. “ I thank you for your good-will, fair stripling,” 
he returned. “ May you find as true a love when your 
time comes to go a-wooing.” 

The maids tittered, while the men guffawed, and a 
richer glow came into the cheeks of Fridtjof the page. 
Suddenly his iris-blue eyes were daringly a-sparkle. 

“The spirits will have forgot your wish before 
that time comes,” he laughed, “ for I vow that I will 
raise a beard or ever I woo a maiden.” 

M7 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Above the mirth that followed rose the voice of 
the brawniest of the henchmen, passing his judgment 
on the ballad. “ Now that is my own desire of songs,” 
he declared. “ That was worth possessing, — the love 
of that lass. A sweetheart who will cleave to your side 
when your fortune is most severe, and despise every 
good because she has not you also, she is the filly to 
yoke with. Drink to the wood maiden, comrades, bare 
feet and wild ways and all ! ” Swinging up his horn, 
he drained off the toast at a draught. “ Give us a mis- 
tress like that, my lord,” he cried merrily, “ and we 
will hold Ivarsdale for her though all of Edmund’s 
men batter at the doors.” 

Laughing, they all looked up where the young 
master leaned in his chair, watching the revels with a 
smile of idle good-humor. All except the blue-eyed 
page; he bent forward instead, so that his long locks 
fell softly about his face. 

The Lord of Ivarsdale shook his head indolently 
against the cushion. “ No wood lass for me, friend 
Celric,” he said. “ The lady of my love shall be a 
high-born maid who knows no more of the world’s 
roughness than I of woman’s ways. Nor shall she 
follow me at all, but stay modestly at home with her 
maids and keep herself gentle and fair against my re- 
turn. Deliver me from your sun-browned, boy-bred 
wenches ! ” 

“ I am consenting to that, lord ! ” a voice cried 
from the benches ; and a hubbub of conflicting opinions 
arose. Only the page neither spoke or moved. 

148 


WHEN MIGHT MADE RIGHT 


The henchman would not be downed; again his 
voice rose above the others. “ In soft days, my lord, 
in soft days, it might easily be so. But bear in mind 
such times as these, when grief happens to a man 
oftener than joy. Methinks your lily-fair lady would 
swoon at the sight of your blood; and tears would be 
the best answer you would get, should you seek to 
draw comfort out of her.” 

White as a star at dawn, the page’s face was raised 
while his wide eyes hung on his master’s; and from 
the little reed wound between his brown fingers, the 
juice began to ooze slowly as though softie silent force 
were crushing the life out of its green heart. 

But the young noble laughed with gay scorn: 
“ Tears would be in all respects a better answer than 
I should deserve, should I whimper faint-hearted words 
into a maiden’s ear. What folly-fit do you speak in, 
fellow? What! Do you think I would wed another 
comrade like yourself, or a playfellow like this young- 
ster? ” Ever so gently his foot touched the boyish 
form on the step. “ It is something quite different 
from either of you that is my desire; something that 
is as much higher as the stars are above these candles.” 

Disputing and agreeing, the clamor rose anew, and 
the Etheling turned to his favorite with a jest. But 
the page was no longer in his place. He had risen to 
his feet and was standing with his head flung back like 
one in pain, both hands up tearing the tunic away from 
his throat. Sebert bent toward him with a question on 
his lips. 


149 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


He forgot the query before he could speak it, how- 
ever, for at that moment there was a sound of hur- 
ried steps on the stone stairs, and one of the armed 
watchmen from the top of the Tower burst into the 
room. 

“Lord,” he gasped, “some one is upon us! We 
thought first it was naught but the noise of the wind 
— then Elward saw a light. We swear they came not 
over the bridge, yet — ” 

His words were cut short by a horn-blast from 
the darkness, loud and clear above the whistling wind. 
Though only one woman screamed out Edmund’s name, 
it is probable that the same thought was in every mind. 
Jests and laughter died on the lips that bore them, and 
with one accord the men turned in their seats to watch 
their master. 

His face had sobered as he listened; before the 
first echo had died away he had spoken swiftly to 
the fellow at his side. “ Celric, get you down to the 
guard at the gate and inquire into the meaning of 
that.” 

When the henchman had left, he began a sharp 
questioning of the sentinel, and the noise did not 
begin again. Whispering, the women drew together 
like herded sheep; and the men left their barley beer, 
to stand in little groups, muttering in one another’s 
ears. An old bowman took his weapon down from the 
wall and set silently to work to restring it. 

In the quiet, the tap of the man’s feet upon the 
steps was audible long before he reached the waiting 

* 5 ° 


WHEN MIGHT MADE RIGHT 


roomful. Every eye fastened itself upon the curtained 
doorway. 

Swinging back, the arras disclosed a face full of 
amazement. “ Lord,” the man said, “ it is Danes ! 
None know how many or how they came there. And 
their chief has sent you a messenger.” 

“Danes!” For the first time in the history of 
Ivarsdale, the word was spoken with an accent of relief. 

The page turned from the fire with a cry of bitter 
rejoicing : “ If it is Canute, I will go to him ! ” 

In the revulsion of his feelings, the Etheling 
laughed outright. “ Since it is not Edmund, I care 
not if it be the Evil One himself; and it cannot be 
he, for Canute is in Mercia.” He rose and faced them 
cheerily. “ Lay aside your uneasiness, friends ; it is 
likely only such another band as we put to flight last 
month, that hopes to surprise us into some weakness. 
Let the signal fires blaze to warn the churls, while we 
amuse ourselves with the messenger. To-morrow we 
will chase them so far over the hills that they will 
never find their way back again.” 

Beckoning to Morcard, he began to consult him 
concerning the most effective arrangement of the senti- 
nels; and there was a muffled clatter of weapons as 
men went to and fro with hasty steps. At a word from 
the steward, the women went softly from the room and 
up the winding stairs to their quarters, the rustling of 
their dresses coming back with ghostly stealthiness. 

When all was ready the messenger was brought 
in between guards. Wrapped in dirty sheepskins, he 

J 5 r 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


swaggered to the centre of the room, and the light that 
fell on his tanned face showed a scar running the full 
length of his cheek. With his first glance, the Lord of 
Ivarsdale uttered an exclamation. 

“ Now, by Saint Mary, I have seen you before, 
fellow! Were you not the leader of the band we drove 
away last month ?” 

The Scar-Cheek laughed impudently. “ I will not 
conceal it; yet I did not know that my beauty was so 
showy. The chief was wise to send Brown-Cloak to 
do the spying.” 

“ Brown-Cloak ! The beggar? ” was cried all down 
the hall. 

But the messenger’s eyes had fallen on the black- 
haired boy, who stood staring at him from the fireside. 
His wide mouth opened in astonishment. “ The King’s 
ward? Here is a happening!” he ejaculated. “If I 
am not much mistaken, Canute will be glad to find this 
out. It was his belief that you had got your death- 
blow at Scoerstan, and he took it ill.” 

The King’s ward made no other answer than to 
regard him with a strange mixture of attention and 
aversion; but the Etheling reached out and pushed 
the boy farther behind the great chair. 

“ Fridtjof Frodesson is my captive and no longer 
concerns you,” he said briefly. “ Give him no further 
thought, but come to your message.” 

The swaggering assurance of the man’s laugh was 
more offensive than rudeness would have been. “ If I 
say that we will shortly set him free, I shall not be 

* 5 * 


WHEN MIGHT MADE RIGHT 


going very wide from my message. My errand hither 
is that I bring word from Rothgar Lodbroksson to sur- 
render the Tower.” 

The page uttered a little cry, and his lord raised 
a hand mechanically to impose silence ; but no one else 
seemed able to speak or to move. From the master in 
his chair to the serf by the door, they stared dumb- 
founded at the messenger. 

He, on his part, appeared to realize all at once that 
the time for formality had come. Pitching his cloak 
higher on his shoulders, he fastened his eyes on a hole 
in the tapestry behind the Etheling’s chair and began 
monotonously to recite his lesson : “ Rothgar, the son 
of Lodbrok, sends you greeting, Sebert Oswaldsson; 
and it is his will that you surrender to him the odal 
and Tower of Ivarsdale; as is right, because the odal 
was created and the Tower was built by Ivar Vid- 
fadmi, who was the first son of Lodbrok and the 
father’s father’s father of my chief — ” In spite of 
himself, he was obliged to stop to take in breath. 

In the pause, the page bent toward his master, his 
face alight with a sudden fierce triumph. “ Lord,” he 
whispered, “you can never get out! You are caught 
as though they had you in a trap ! ” 

Astounded, Sebert drew back to stare at him. 
“Fridtjof! It is not possible that you are unfaithful 
to me ! ” 

The boy’s only answer was to drop down upon the 
step and bury his face in his hands. And now the mes- 
senger had recovered his wind and his place. 

i53 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Since the time of Alfred/’ he went on, “ my chief 
and his kin have been kept out of the property by your 
stock and you; yet because he does not wish to look 
mean, he offers you to go out in safety with all of your 
housefolk, both men and women, and as much property 
as you can walk under, — if you go quietly and in 
peace.” This time his inflection showed that he had 
finished. He turned his eyes from the hole and fastened 
them on the Lord of Ivarsdale, in the confidence of 
invincible power. 

The room was so still that when a gust came in 
around the ill-fitting windows, the flare of the torch- 
flames sounded loud as the hiss of serpents. 

The Etheling’s voice was very deep and quiet. 
“ If we go in peace,” he repeated slowly. “ And if we 
do not?” 

The Dane shrugged his burly shoulders. “ There 
are no terms for that. You will find it necessary to 
take what comes.” 

Again there was silence. 

Sebert put his last question : “ How long does the 
son of Lodbrok give me to consider how I am to order 
things? ” 

The man shattered the silence with his boisterous 
laughter. “ It is not a lie about you English that you 
never do aught that you do not sit down first and con- 
sider, till the crews have eaten all your provisions and 
the timbers of your boats are rotting. When a Dane 
strikes, it is like the striking of lightning. So soon as 
you hear the thunder of his coming, that instant you 

i54 


WHEN MIGHT MADE RIGHT 


see the flashing of his weapon. My chief gives you no 
time at all. So long a time, he has studied out, will it 
take me to come in to you; so much longer to do my 
errand; and so much longer to get back. At the end 
of that time he will blow his horn, and if your gates 
do not fly open in obedience, he will take that for your 
answer.” 

Either the Lord of Ivarsdale had been doing some 
rapid thinking during the long speech, or else he was 
too incensed to think. Now he rose with sparks flash- 
ing from the steel of his eyes. “ By Peter, he is right ! 
I do not need even that long,” he cried. “ Since the 
Wide-Fathomer began the game, the Tower has been 
the prize of the strongest. Shall I flinch from a chal- 
lenge? Our rights are equal; our luck shall decide. 
For his answer, be he reminded of his own Danish say- 
ing, that ‘ It is a strong bird that can take what an 
eagle has in his claws,’ and let him get what comfort 
he can from that.” 

After his ringing tones, the unmoved voice of the 
messenger fell flat on the ear. “ It has happened as 
we supposed, that you would answer unfavorably,” he 
said as he turned. “ It was seen in battle that you are 
a brave man. Otherwise the chief would not have 
thought it necessary to hew a path through the forest 
in order to take you by surprise.” Saluting with some 
appearance of respect, he joined his conductors at the 
door and passed out of sight down the stair. 

Like smoke in the wake of a firebrand, confusion 
rose behind him; a din of exclamations loosed on the 

i55 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


air and the clangor of weapons caught down from 
the wall. Through it, the Etheling’s voice sounded 
strongly. 

“ To the palisade, all of you ! They may not wait 
till morning. To the forest side; and keep them from 
it as you would keep off death ! ” He bent and shook 
the crouching page. “ My armor, boy ! How! Would 
you have me read treason in your sluggishness? My 
armor ! ” 

The page started up, but it was only to stare past 
him and fling out his hand toward a window, where a 
bright light had suddenly shot athwart the darkness: 
“ Lord, they have set fire to something ! ” 

The voice of old Morcard rose shrill : “ To the 
storehouses ! Save the grain ! ” 

There was a wild rush for the door; but on the 
threshold they were met by the shouts of watchmen 
hurrying from the parapets. 

“ Lord, the court is swarming with them ! ” . . . 
“ They have cut through the palisade on the forest 
side ! ” . . . “ They had brush laid ready — ” . . . 
“ Waited only for him — ” . . . “ Holy saints, what 
is the meaning of that? ” . . . “ Something else has 
taken ! ” 

From the stairway above them came a piercing 
cry : “ The storehouses ! They have fired them from 
inside ! The lead is melting like ice ! ” . . . “ The 
grain!” . . . “The grain!” 

In their midst the young lord stood in helpless 
fury; and the hand he had grasped around his sword- 

*56 


WHEN MIGHT MADE RIGHT 


hilt gripped it so hard that blood started under each 
nail. But his page bent and kissed the clenched fist 
with a cry of fierce exulting. 

“ You will never get out to find your lily-fair lady. 
You will never have a lady wife, lord! We shall die 
together.” 


157 


CHAPTER XIV 


HOW THE FATES CHEATED RANDALIN 

There is a mingling of affection 
Where one can tell 
Another all his mind. 

HAVAMAL. 

FTER that night the deep- 
set windows of Ivarsdale 
Tower looked out upon 
some grim sights. The 
first morning it was a skir- 
mish in the meadow be- 
yond the foot-bridge, when 
the three-score farmer-sol- 
diers came loyally to their 
leader’s aid. Though Ken- 
bravely at their head, they 
were practically uncaptained ; with any kind of weapon 
in their hands and no kind of armor over their home- 
spun. What chance had they against sixty picked war- 
riors, led by the fiercest chief of a race of chieftains? 
They met, and there was a moment of clash and of 
clangor, a moment of awful commotion ; and when the 
whirling dust-clouds settled, the only homespun that 
was moving was that which was flying, sped by Danish 

158 



dred of Hazelford marched 



HOW THE FATES CHEATED RANDALIN 


arrows. All the rest of the day the Tower windows 
looked out upon a litter of brown heaps, here and there 
a white face upturned or a scarf-end fluttering in the 
autumn wind. 

Wild with helpless misery, the Lord of Ivarsdale 
would have charged the Berserkers with his handful 
of armed servants if the old cniht had not restrained 
him almost by force ; when he spent his breath in rail- 
ing at everything between earth and sky. 

“ It is the folly of it that maddens me,” he cried 
over and over, “the needless folly! Had I but used 
my mind to think with, instead of to plan feasts — I 
am moved to dash my brains out when I remember 
it! ” 

“ Nay, it is my judgment that was lacking,” Mor- 
card said bitterly. “ I was an old dog that could not 
learn a new trick. I should have seen that the old 
ways no longer avail. The fault was mine.” His 
wrinkled old face was so haggard with self-reproach 
that the Etheling hastily recanted. 

“ Now I bethink me, I am wrong, and it is no one’s 
fault. It comes of the curse that lies over the Island. 
Was there not something rotten in all English pali- 
sades, it would never have happened that the pirates 
got their first foothold. But we have shaken off the 
spell, and they have not mastered us yet. To-night we 
will try to get a messenger out to my kinsman in York- 
shire, and another to my father’s friend in Essex.” 

The next day, and for many days thereafter, the 
Tower windows stared out like expectant eyes. But 

i59 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


no delivering bands ever came over the hills to reward 
their watching. From the moment that he was swal- 
lowed by the outer darkness, the messenger for York- 
shire was as lost to their sight and their knowledge as 
though he had plunged into the ocean. And a week 
later, the man who had been sent into Essex crept back 
with a dejection that foretold his ill success. The 
ealdorman was taxed, might and main, to protect his 
own lands. He regretted it, to his innermost vitals, 
but these were days when each must stand or fall for 
himself. He could only send his sympathy and the 
counsel to hold out unflinchingly in the hope that some 
fortune of war would call the besiegers away. 

When he heard that, Father Ingulph forgot his 
robes to indulge in a curse. “ Does he think we have 
possession of the widow’s blessed oil-cruse? If the 
larder had not been stocked for a week’s feasting, we 
must needs have been starved under ere this. How 
much longer can we endure, even at one meal a day? ” 
He sighed as he drew his belt in another notch. 

When the beginning of the Wine Month came, 
the bitterest sight that the Tower windows gave out 
upon was the band of foragers that every morning went 
forth from the Danish camp-fires. Every noon they 
returned, amid a taunting racket, with armfuls of ale- 
skins, back-loads of salted meats, and bags bulging 
with the bread which they had forced the terrorized 
farm-women into baking for them. “ They have the 
ingenuity of fiends!” Father Ingulph was wont to 
groan after each of these spectacles. 

160 


HOW THE FATES CHEATED RANDALIN 


At last the time arrived when it looked as though 
these visions were to be the only glimpses of food 
vouchsafed to them. 

“ Bread for one more meal ; and the last ale-cask 
has been broached,” the steward answered in a very 
faint voice when Morcard put the nightly question. 

Because it was not possible for the old man’s face 
to record more misery, the light of the guard-room fire 
over which he crouched showed no change whatever 
in his expression. 

It was the young lord, who sat beside him, that 
answered. After a pause he said gently, “ Go and 
try to get some sleep. At least you can dream of 
food.” 

“ I have done no otherwise for a sennight,” the 
man sighed as he hurried away to snatch the tongs 
from a serf who was spending an unnecessary fagot 
upon the fire. At any other time he would have 
shouted at him, but it was little loud talking that was 
done within the walls these days. 

When they were left alone, the old cniht threw 
himself back upon the bench and covered his face 
with his mantle. “ I have outlived my usefulness,” he 
moaned. “ I have lived to bring ruin on the house that 
has sheltered me. What guilt I lie under!” For a 
time he lay as stark and rigid under his cloak as though 
death had already closed about him. The guard-room 
seemed to become a funeral chamber, with a mass of 
hovering shadows for a pall. The fire held up funeral 
tapers of flickering flame, and the whispers of the starv- 

n 161 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


in g men who warmed themselves in its heat broke the 
silence as dismally as the voices of mourners. 

But the Lord of Ivarsdale said steadily, “ Not so, 
good friend; and it hurts my pride sorely that you 
should speak as if I were still of no importance in my 
father’s house. That which I call myself lord of, it be- 
hooved me to rule over. If ever I get out of this — ” 
checking himself, he rose to his feet. “ The smoke 
makes my wits heavy. Methinks I will go up into the 
air a while.” 

He took a step toward the door, but halted when 
the red-cloaked page, who had been stretched near him 
on the bench, started up as though preparing to ac- 
company him. 

“ Stay where you are, lad. These fasts from sleep 
will parch your young brains. I go up to the platform 
because I would rather walk than rest; but do you 
remain here by the fire and try to catch a drowsiness 
from its heat.” 

But the page advanced with the old wilful shake 
of his curly head. “ I also would rather walk, if you 
please.” 

As he looked at him, compassion came into the 
Etheling’s face. The hollowness of their sockets made 
the boy’s large eyes look larger, and his fever-flush 
trebled their brightness. Sebert said, with a poor 
attempt at a smile, “ Little did I think that my hospi- 
tality would ever produce such a guest. Poor young- 
ling! You would better have crept out to your coun- 
trymen, as I bade you.” 


162 


HOW THE FATES CHEATED RANDALIN 


Again the dark head shook obstinately. “ Rather 
would I starve with you than feast with them. I go 
not out till you go.” 

Something seemed to come into the young man’s 
throat as he was about to speak, for he swallowed 
hard and was silent. Putting an arm about the slender 
figure, he drew it to his side ; and so they left the room 
and began to climb the stairs. 

As soon as the curtain fell at their heels a stifling 
mustiness came to their nostrils, and a chill that was 
like the flat of a knife-blade pressed against their 
cheeks. They drew breath thankfully when they had 
come up into the sweet freshness of the night air. 
Flashing on the weapons of the pacing sentinels, a 
glory of silver moonlight lay like a visible silence over 
the parapets. In the darkness below, a sea of forest 
trees was murmuring and splashing at the passing of 
a wind. Yet deeper down in the dark glowed the fires 
of the Danish camp, — red eyes of the dragon that 
would rise ere long and crush them under his iron claws. 

After they had twice made the round without 
speaking, the page said gravely, “ I heard what Brith- 
wald told you about the bread, lord. What will over- 
take us when that is gone? Shall we charge them, so 
that we may die fighting?” When the Etheling did 
not answer immediately, his companion looked up at 
him with loving reproach. “ You forget that you need 
conceal nothing from me, dear lord. I am not as those 
clowns below. You have even said that you found 
pleasure in telling me your mind.” 

163 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Sebert’s hand was lifted from the red cloak to 
touch the thin cheek caressingly. “ I should be ex- 
treme ungrateful were I to say less, dear lad. There 
is a man’s courage in your boy’s body, and I think a 
woman could not be more faithful in her love — How ! 
Are you cold that you shiver so? Pull the corner of 
my cloak about you.” 

But the page cast it off impatiently. “ No, no, it 
is nothing; no more than that one of those men out 
there may have walked across the spot that is to be my 
grave. Sooner would I bite my tongue off than inter- 
rupt you. I ask you not to let it hinder your speech.” 

Again a kind of affectionate pity came into the 
young noble’s face. “ Does it mean so much to you to 
hear that you have been faithful in your service?” 

“ It means — so much to me ! ” the boy repeated 
softly; and if the man’s ear had not been far afield, he 
might have divined the secret of the green tunic only 
from the tenderness of the low voice. But when his 
mind came back to his companion again, the lad was 
looking at him with a little smile touching the curves 
of his wistful mouth. 

“ Do you know why this mishap which has oc- 
curred to you seems great luck for me? Because other- 
wise it is not likely that you would have found out how 
true a friend I could be. If it had happened that I had 
gone with Rothgar’s messenger that night, you would 
have remembered me only as one who could entertain 
you when it was your wish to laugh. But now, since 
it has been allowed me to endure suffering with you 

164 


HOW THE FATES CHEATED RANDALIN 


and to share your mind when it was bitterest, you have 
given me a place in your heart. And to-morrow, when 
we go forth together, and the Dane slays me with you 
because it will be open to him then that for your sake 
I have become unfaithful to him, you will remember 
our fellowship even to — ” 

But Sebert’s hand silenced the tremulous lips. 
“ No more, youngling ! I adjure you by your gentle- 
ness,” he whispered unsteadily. “You owe me no 
such love; and it makes my helplessness a thousand- 
fold more bitter. Say no more, little comrade, if you 
would not turn my heart into a woman’s when it has 
need to be of flint. Sit you here on the ledge the while 
that I take one more turn. You will not? Then come 
with me, and we will make the round together, and 
apply our wits once more to the riddle. Until sv/ords 
have put an end to me, I shall not cease to believe that 
it has an answer.” 

Below, in the dense blackness of the forest, an 
occasional owl sounded his echoless cry. From still 
deeper in the dark, where the Danish camp-fires 
glowed, a harp-note floated up on the wind with a 
fragment of wild song. But it was many a long mo- 
ment before the silence that hovered over the doomed 
Tower was broken by any sound but the measured 
tramp of the sentinels. 

It was Sebert who brought the dragging pace 
finally to a halt, throwing himself upon a stone bench 
to hold his head in his hands. “We cannot drive 
them off ; that needs no further proof. And I do not 

i6 5 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


see how we can hold out till the time that chance en- 
tices them away, when but one meal stands between 
us and starvation, and already we are as weak as rab- 
bits. Naught can profit us save craft. ,, 

The dark head beside him shook hopelessly; but 
he repeated the verdict with additional emphasis. “ I 
tell you, craft is our only hope; some artfulness that 
shall undermine their strength even as their tricks 
crept, snake-like, under our guard.” Turning in his 
seat, he set his face toward the darkness, clutching 
his head in renewed effort. 

No word came from the page, but a strange look 
was dawning in his upturned face. Whether it was a 
great terror that had shaken his soul or whether a joy 
had come to him that raised him to heaven itself, it 
was impossible to tell, for the signs of both were in his 
eyes. And when at last he spoke, both thrilled through 
his voice. “ Lord,” he said slowly, “ I think I see where 
a trick is possible.” 

As Sebert turned from the darkness, the boy 
struggled up and stood before him. “ If they could 
be made to believe a lie about the food? If they could 
be made to believe that you have enough to continue 
this for a long time? Their natures are such that al- 
ready it must have become a hardship for them to 
remain quiet.” 

The Etheling’s eyes were riveted on the other’s 
lips; his every muscle strained toward him. Under 
the stimulus the page’s words seemed to come a little 
less uncertainly, a little more quickly. 

166 


HOW THE FATES CHEATED RANDALIN 


“ I think I could manage it for you, lord. They 
think me your unwilling captive: you remember what 
the messenger said about freeing me? If I should go 
to Rothgar — ” his voice broke and his eyes sought 
his friend’s eyes as though they were wine-cups from 
which he would drink courage — “if I should go to 
Rothgar, lord, I could declare myself escaped, and he 
would be likely to believe any story I told him. ,, 

Sebert leaped up and caught the lad by the shoul- 
ders, then hesitated, weighing it in his mind, half fear- 
ing to believe. “ But are you sure that your tongue 
will not trip you? Or your face, poor mouse? What! 
Can you make them believe in abundance when 
your cheeks are like bowls for the catching of your 
tears? ” 

The boy seemed to gather strength from the caress- 
ing hands, as Thor from the touch of his magic belt. 
He even gave a little breathless laugh of elation. “ As 
to that, I think he is not wise enough to guess the 
truth. I will tell him that you have thought it re- 
vengeful toward him to starve your Danish captive; 
and because it is in every respect according to what 
he would do in your place, I think he will have no 
misgivings.” 

Pulling the soft curls with a suggestion of his old 
lightheartedness, the Etheling laughed with him. “You 
bantling! Who would have dreamed you to that de- 
gree artful? Are you certain your craft will bear you 
out? I would not have you suffer their anger. Are 
you capable of so much feigning?” 

167 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


For an instant the boy’s eyes were even audacious ; 
and all the hollowness of the cheeks could not hide a 
flashing dimple. “ Oh, my dear lord, I am capable of 
so much more feigning than you guess ! ” he answered 
daringly. 

“ Nay, have I not been wont to call you elf? ” 
Sebert returned. Then his voice deepened with feel- 
ing. “ By the soul of my father, Fridtjof, if you bring 
me out of this snare, me and mine, I declare with truth 
that there will be no recompense you can ask at my 
hands which I shall not be glad to grant — ” He 
paused in the wonder of seeing the sparkle in the blue 
eyes flee away like a flitting light. 

The page turned from him almost with a sob. 
“ Pray you, promise me nothing ! ” he said hastily. 
“ If ever I see you again, and you have more to give 
me than pity — Nay, I shall lose my courage if I 
think of that part. Get me out quickly while the heart 
is firm within me. And give me a draught from your 
cup to warm my blood.” 

“ Certainly it would be best for you to come to 
them while they are in such a state of feasting that 
their good-humor is keenest and their wits dullest,” 
Sebert assented. 

He spoke but with the matter-of-factness of a sol- 
dier reconnoitring a position, but on the girl in the 
page’s dress the words fell like blows. Then it was 
that she realized for the first time how ill a crumb can 
satisfy the hunger which asks for a loaf; that she 
knew that her body was not the only part of her which 

168 


HOW THE FATES CHEATED RANDALIN 


was starving. Somewhere on that dark stairway she 
lost the boyishness out of her nature forever. The 
thin cheeks were white under their tan when they came 
again into the light of the guard-room fire; and the 
blue eyes had in them a woman’s reproach. 

“ It would show no more than friendship if 
you said that you were sorry to have me go,” she 
told him with quivering lips. “ Are you so eager in 
getting me off that you cannot say you will miss 
me? ” 

But the young lord only laughed good-humoredly 
as he poured the wine. “ What a child you are ! Do 
you not know those things without my telling you? 
And as for missing you, I am not likely to have time. 
The first chance you get, you will slip back to me — 
if you do not, I will come after you and flog you into 
the bargain ; be there no forgetting ! ” 

She could not laugh as she would once have done; 
instead she choked in the cup and pushed it from her. 
A passionate yearning came over her for one such word, 
one such look, as he would give the dream-lady when 
she should come. With her secret on her lips, she lifted 
her eyes to his. 

A little amused but more pitying, and withal very, 
very kind, his glance met hers; and her courage for- 
sook her. Suppose the word she was about to speak 
should not make his face friendlier? Suppose his sur- 
prise should be succeeded by haughtiness, or, worse 
than all, by a touch of that gay scorn? Even at the 
memory of it she shrank. Better a crumb than no 

169 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


bread at all. Turning away, she followed him in si- 
lence down the dark passage. 

When the moment of parting arrived, and Sebert’s 
hand lay on the last bolt, that mood was so strong 
upon her that it seemed to her as though she were 
passing out of life into death. Clinging to his cloak, 
with her face buried in its folds, she wet it with far 
bitterer tears than any she had shed over her mur- 
dered kinsmen. 

“ I wish I had not thought of it ! I wish I had 
not told you ! ” she sobbed into the soft muffling. 
“ Only to be near you I thought heaven ; and now 
the Fates have cheated me even out of that.” 

The Etheling put his hand under the bent head to 
raise it that he might hear what the lips were saying, 
and she covered his palm with kisses. Then slipping 
away, like the elf he had called her, she glided through 
the narrow space of the half-open door and was gone, 
sobbing, out into the night. 


CHAPTER XV 


HOW FRIDTJOF CHEATED THE JOTUN 

Such is the love of women, 

Who falsehood meditate, 

As if one drove not rough-shod 
On slippery ice 
A spirited two-year-old 
And unbroken horse. 

HAVAMAL. 

TRUST my sword; I trust my 
steed ; 

But most I trust myself at need,' ” 

the fair-haired scald sang 
exultingly to the Danish- 
men sprawled around the 
camp-fire. It was to no 
graceful love-song that his 
harp lent its swelling 
chords, but to a stern 
whose ringing notes sped 
through the forest like the bearers of war-arrows, 
knocking at the door of each sleeping echo until it 
awoke and carried on the summons. 

Echoes awoke as well in the breasts of those who 
listened. When the minstrel laid aside his harp for 
his cup, Snorri Scar-Cheek brought his fist down in a 

171 




THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


mighty blow upon the earth. “To hear such words 
and know one’s self doomed to wallow in mast ! ” 

A dozen shaggy heads wagged surly acquiescence. 
But from the figure outstretched upon the splendid 
bearskin a harsh voice sounded. “ Now I see that be- 
cause you lie in mast you have a swine’s wit,” it said. 
“ Do you want the thrall to stand forth and prove for 
the hundredth time that their bins must needs be as 
empty as your head? ” 

Venturing no more than a growl, the man dropped 
his chin back upon his fists. But Brown-Cloak, the 
English serf, found somewhere the notion that here 
was an opportunity to rehearse once more the service 
which was his sole claim upon his new masters’ indul- 
gence, and he got on his legs accordingly. 

“ I can say soothly that you will not have to bear 
it much longer, Lord Dale,” he reassured. “ My own 
eyes saw that — ” He ended in a howl as a half- 
gnawed sheep-bone from the warrior’s hand struck 
him with a force that knocked him sprawling among 
the ashes. 

“ Do not trouble yourself to answer until you are 
questioned,” the Scar-Cheek recommended briefly. And 
a round of laughter followed the poor scapegoat as he 
picked himself up, groaning, and crept away into the 
shadow. In the restlessness of their inactivity, and this 
swift breaking into passages of growling and tooth- 
play whenever, in their narrow confines, they chanced 
to jostle each other, they were like nothing so much as 
a pack of caged wolves. 


172 


HOW THE FATES CHEATED RANDALIN 


Into the den, a few minutes later, the daughter of 
Frode came on her difficult mission. Her face was so 
ghastly that the man who first caught sight of it 
did not recognize her, and snatched up his weapon as 
against an enemy. 

It was the Scar-Cheek who offered the first wel- 
come in a jovial shout. “ The hawk escaped from the 
cage! Well done, champion! Did you batter a way 
out with your mighty fists? Did you get fretful and 
slay the Englishman? Leave off your bashfulness and 
tell us your deeds of valor ! ” A score of hands were 
stretched forth to draw the boy into the circle ; a score 
of horns were held out for his refreshment. 

To all of them Randalin yielded silently, — silently 
accepting the cup which was nearest, in order to gain 
time by sipping its contents. She realized that only a 
manner of perfect unconcern could carry her through, 
yet she felt herself shaking with excitement. 

Rothgar sat up on the great skin with a gesture 
of some cordiality. “Hail to you, Fridtjof Frodesson!” 
he said. “Your escape is a thing that gladdens me. 
I did not like the thought of starving you, and I 
hope your father will overlook the unfriendliness 
of it.” 

The Scar-Cheek, who had been scanning her criti- 
cally where she stood before them, drinking, gave a 
pitying grunt. “ By the crooked horn, boy, you must 
have had naught but ill luck since the time of Scoer- 
stan! No more meat is on you than a raven could eat; 
and the night I was in the Englishman’s hall, you had 

i73 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


the appearance of having been under a lash. Your 
guardian spirit must have gone astray.” 

Though she managed to keep her eyes upon her 
cup, Randalin could not hinder a wave of burning color 
from over-running her face. Seeing it, Rothgar held 
up his handless left arm for silence. 

“ You act in a mannerless way, Snorri Gudbrands- 
son, when you remind a high-spirited youth that he 
has been disgraced in his mind. Yet do not let 
that prevent your joy, my Bold One. To make up 
for the injury I have been to you, I will give you a 
revenge on the Englishman that shall wipe out every- 
thing you have endured from him. If it is possible 
for me to take him alive and bind him, your own 
hand shall be the one to strike Sebert Oswaldsson his 
death-blow.” 

The girl’s nervousness betrayed her into a burst of 
hysterical laughter, but her wits were quick enough 
to turn it to good account. She said with Fridtjofs 
own petulance, “ Your boon is like the one Canute has 
in store for me. I am likely to wait so long for both 
that I shall have no teeth left to chew them with. I 
like it much better to take your kindness in the shape 
of food, if that is a loaf yonder.” 

The abruptness with which silence fell over the 
group was startling. Snorri bent forward and plucked 
her sternly back as she made a move toward the bread. 
A dozen voices questioned her. 

“What do you mean by that?” . . . “Why will 
it take long? ” . . . “ Are they not short in food? ” 

*74 


HOW FRIDTJOF CHEATED THE JOTUN 

Knowing that she could not achieve unconcern, 
she kept to her petulance, jerking her cloak away from 
the hand that detained it. “ Should I be apt to blame 
him for starving me if he did it because no better cheer 
was to be had? Nor do I think you have proved much 
more liberal. Let me by to the bread.” 

Instead, the ring narrowed around her; and the 
chief himself put peremptory questions in his heavy 
voice. “ Has he food? What do you mean? Clear 
your wits and answer distinctly. Can you not under- 
stand that we think this food-question of great im- 
portance? The thrall told us they are wont to keep 
their provisions in the house we burned. Did he lie? ” 

“ I do not know whether he lied or not,” Randalin 
answered slowly ; “ but it seems to me great foolish- 
ness that you did not take the time into consideration. 
At the end of the harvest, any English house would be 
fitted out for weeks of feasting. You came the night 
the larder was fullest; and they have only spent one 
meal a day since.” 

Rothgar got upon his feet and towered over her, 
his Jotun-frame appearing to swell with irritation. “Do 
you not know how provoking your words are, that you 
are so glib of tongue ? ” he thundered. “ Tell shortly 
what you think of their case; can they last one day 
more? ” 

The black head nodded emphatically. 

“ Can they last two days? ” 

Another nod. 

“A week?” 


i75 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Fridtjof the Bold took refuge in sullenness. “They 
can last two weeks as easily as one. How much longer 
are you going to keep me from food?” 

She was free after that to do anything she liked, 
for their excitement was so great that they forgot her 
existence. Those whose fluency was not hampered by 
their feelings, relieved their minds by cursing. Those 
whose anger could be vented only in action, made after 
the blundering serf. And the few who were boldest 
turned and bearded the son of Lodbrok himself. 

“How much longer must we endure this?” . . . 
“ Think of the game we are missing !”...“ There is 
little need to remind me. My naked fists could bat- 
ter the stones from their places — ” . . . “In a week 
more, it is possible that England may be won ! ” . . . 
“ What do you care for their wretched land, chief? ” 
. . . “Chief, how much longer must we lie here?” 

When that question was finally out, every man 
heaved a sigh of relief, straightening in his place like 
a dog that is pricking his ears, and there was a pause. 

A fell look came into the Jotun’s face as he gazed 
back at them; and for a time it seemed that he would 
either answer with his fist or not at all. But at length 
he began to speak in a voice as keen and hard as his 
sword. 

“ You know my temper, and that I must have my 
will. Always I have thought it shame that my kins- 
man’s odal should lie in English hands, and now I have 
made up my mind to put an end to it. You know that 
I am in no way greedy for property. When I obtain 

176 


HOW FRIDTJOF CHEATED THE JOTUN 

the victory, you shall have every acre and every stick 
on it to burn or plunder or keep, as best pleases you. 
But I do not want to reproach myself longer with my 
neglect; and whether it take two weeks or whether it 
take twenty — ” He interrupted himself to bend for- 
ward, shading his eyes with his hands. “ If I am not 
much mistaken,” he said in quite another voice, “yonder 
is Brass Borgar at last! Yonder, near those oak-trees.” 

In an instant they had all turned to scan the moon- 
lit open. And now that they were silent, the thud of 
hoofs became distinct. Shouting their welcome, some 
hurried to heap fresh fuel on the fire, and some ran 
after more ale-skins; while others rushed forward to 
meet the messenger and run beside his horse, riddling 
him with questions. 

Folding his arms, the chief awaited him in grim 
silence. If glances could have burned, he would have 
writhed under the look that a pair of iris-blue eyes 
was dealing him over a bread crust. But it may be 
that his skin was particularly thick, for he betrayed 
no uneasiness whatever. 

When the man finally stood before him, Rothgar 
said sternly, “ It is time you were here ! Ten days 
have gone over your head since I sent you out. You 
must do one of two things, — either tell great tidings 
or submit to sharp words.” 

The Brass One laughed as he saluted. “ I should 
have been liable to sharp steel had I come sooner, 
chief. Would you have taken it well if I had left 
without knowing how it went with the battle?” 

177 


12 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Battle ! ” three-score mouths cried as with one 
voice. “Who were victorious? ” 

The man laughed again. “ Should I come to you 
with a noisy voice and my chin held high, if other than 
one thing had happened? Honor to the Thunderer, 
the Raven possessed the field ! ” 

Such a clamor arose as though the wolf-pack had 
tasted blood. Three times, through the trumpet of his 
hands, Rothgar bawled a command for silence. “ One 
horn you may have, then all this must be told before you 
eat,” he gave orders. And he strode restlessly to and fro 
until the time came when the horn stood on end above 
the man’s mouth and then was lowered reluctantly. 

Drawing his hand across his lips, the Brass One 
cleared his throat. “ At your pleasure, chief. Is it to 
your mind to begin with the battle? Or do you rather 
wish to hear of my journey thence? I admit that that 
part is somewhat likely to stick in my teeth and in your 
ears. From Otford to Shepey was little better than a 
retreat, and if — ” 

“ The battle ! the battle ! ” a chorus of voices cried, 
and the chief confirmed the choice. 

“ The battle, by all means ! The other will do for 
lesser dishes when the first edge is off our appetite. 
Where was it? And how long since? Yet, before any 
of these, how goes it with my royal foster-brother? 
And how do his traitors carry sail, Odin’s curse upon 
them! Speak! How fares he?” 

“ On the top of the wave, my chief, — though it is 
my belief that he has your mind toward Edric Jarl, for 
178 


HOW FRIDTJOF CHEATED THE JOTUN 

all that Thorkel is ever on hand to urge the value 
of his craft. And certainly it was exceedingly useful 
to them at Assington — ” 

“ Assington ! ” . . . “ In Essex?” the chorus broke 
in upon him. “ It happened as Grimalf said — ” -. . . 
“ — the horse with the bloody saddle which he found 
over the hill — Do you know for certain if 

Edric — ” . . . “ Why will you interrupt him?” . . . 
“Yes, end this talk!” . . . “ Go on, go on!” 

“ I also say go on, in the Troll's name! ” the Jotun 
roared. “ Go on and tell us what Edric the Gainer did 
which they else could not have done.” 

“ I said not that he did what they could not, chief. 
He did what they would not, as the thrall who pulls 
off our boots muddies his hands that we may keep ours 
clean. And a strange wonder is the way in which the 
English king trusts him even after this treason has 
been committed ! The Gainer fled, with all his men, at 
the moment when most King Edmund depended upon 
his support; and in this way left for Danish feet a 
hewn path where a forest of battle-trees had stood.” 

Rothgar took no part in the stream of questions 
and comments that again drowned the voice of the 
messenger, until suddenly he launched an oath that 
out-thundered them all : “ May Thor feel otherwise 
than I do, for I vow that were I in his place, I would 
raise Danish warriors in wool-chests! Is that the 
valor of the descendants of Odin, that they go not into 
battle until a foul-hearted traitor has swept the way 
clean of danger? Is the heart of the King become wax 

179 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


within him? Or is it that cold-blooded fox at his side 
that is draining the manhood out of him? I would 
give much if I had been there ! ” Casting himself down 
upon the bearskin, he lay there breathing hard and 
tearing the fur out in great handfuls. 

Brass Borgar spoke with the utmost deprecation: 
“ I say nothing against your feelings, chief ; and there 
are not a few who think as you do; yet I ask you to 
remember one thing. I ask you to remember that no 
Dane has ever held back in battle because he had the 
Traitor’s help. Canute uses him to strengthen his 
back; never to shield his face. The Islanders’ own 
mouths have admitted that the odds are against ten 
Englishmen if they face one Dane. I think it is be- 
cause he is out of patience with the war that the King 
makes of the Gainer a time-saver. It has been told 
me that he fights not for love of it, nor yet for glory, 
but because he covets the land of — ” 

Like the bellow of an angry bull, Rothgar’s voice 
broke through his. “ Land ! Quickly will I proclaim 
my opinion of any man who sets his heart on that! 
He who forgets glory in his eagerness for property, 
deserves the curse of Thor ! ” 

“ Prepare yourself, then, for a thunderbolt, Roth- 
gar Lodbroksson,” a clear voice spoke up suddenly. 

None but had forgotten the red-cloaked figure 
munching its bread in the shadow behind them. One 
and all started in surprise. And the chief turned over 
his shoulder a face that was livid with anger. “ You 
— you dare ! ” he roared. 

180 


HOW FRIDTJOF CHEATED THE JOTUN 

But Randalin’s heart was too full of bitterness to 
leave any room for fear. At the moment, it seemed to 
her that it did not matter what happened. She stood 
before the Jotun as straight and unbending as a spear- 
shaft, and her eyes were reflections of his own. Her 
wonder was great when slowly, even while his eyes 
blazed, Rothgar’s mouth began to twitch at the cor- 
ners. All at once he rolled over on his back with a 
shout of laughter. 

“ By Ragnar, there will not be many jests to equal 
this ! ” he gasped. “ That a titmouse should ruffle its 
feathers and upbraid me ! Here is merriment ! ” He 
lay there laughing after the others had joined in with 
him ; and his face was not entirely sober the next time 
he turned it toward her. “ Good Berserker, give me 
leave to live some while longer in order that I may 
explain my intentions.” 

Yet when he had risen, a change came into his 
voice that brought every man to his feet. “We will 
make ready to go at cockcrow,” he said abruptly. “ If 
it were only a matter of a couple of days, I would wait ; 
but since it will be at least a week before we can ex- 
pect them to give in, I think it unadvisable to waste 
more time. Since the King is in this temper, the next 
battle may well be the last; and much shame would 
come of it if we did not have our share. We will start 
when the cock crows. As soon as Canute gets the 
kingship over the English realm, Ivarsdale will fall to 
me anyway. Let the Angle enjoy himself until then.” 


181 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE SWORD OF SPEECH 

Speech-runes thou must know 
If thou wilt that no one 
For injury with hate requite thee. 

SIGDRIFUMAL. 

O holiday finery tricked out 
the Danish host where it 
squatted along the Severn 
Valley that dreary Octo- 
ber day ; neither festal 
tables nor dimpling women 
nor even the gay striped 
tents. Of all the multitude 
of flags but one banner 
pricked the murky air, — 
the Raven standard that marked the headquarters of 
the King; and its sodden folds distinguished nothing 
more regal than a shepherd’s wattled cote. Scattered 
clumps of trees offered the weary men their only pro- 
tection against the drizzling rain; and the sole sug- 
gestions of comfort were the sickly fires that patient 
endeavor had managed to coax into life in these re- 
treats. Some, whom exhaustion had robbed even of a 
fire-tender’s ambition, had dropped down on the very 

182 




THE SWORD OF SPEECH 


spot where they had slipped from their saddles, and 
slept, cloak-wrapped, in the wet. And the circles about 
the fires were not much noisier. 

Rothgar’s face gathered gravity as he gained the 
crest of the last hill that lay between him and the 
straggling encampment. 

“ The rain appears to fall as coldly on their cheer 
as on their fires,” he commented. “ They hug the earth 
like the ducks on Videy Island.” 

“ And look about as much like warriors who have 
got a victory,” the child of Frode added wonderingly. 

The Jotun threw her a glance, where she rode at 
his side. “ Hear words of fate ! I think that is the 
first time you have spoken in three days.” 

“You would think that great luck if you knew 
the kind of thoughts that have been in my mind,” she 
muttered. But the son of Lodbrok was already lead- 
ing his men down the hillside toward the point where 
the silken banner mocked at the wattled walls. 

Under the thatched roof of the hut, a still more 
striking contrast awaited the eyes of those who en- 
tered. With a milking-stool for his table and the 
shepherd’s rude bunk for a throne, the young King of 
the Danes was bending in scowling meditation over 
an open scroll. Against the mud-plastered walls, the 
crimson splendor of his cloak and the glitter of his 
gold embroideries gave him the look of a tropical bird 
in an osier cage; while the fiery beauty of his face 
shone like a star in the dusk of the windowless cell. 
Days in the saddle and nights in the council had pared 

183 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


away every superfluous curve from cheek and chin, 
until there was not one line left that did not tell of im- 
patient energy; and every spark of his burning soul 
seemed centred in his brilliant eyes. At the sight of 
him, the girl’s heart started and shook like a harp- 
string under the touch of the master; and Rothgar, the 
stolid, the stern, who had come to upbraid, bowed rev- 
erently as he grasped the hand his leader stretched out. 

“ King, I would not have kept away had I guessed 
that my sword would be useful to you. It was my be- 
lief that you were entertaining yourself with getting 
property in Mercia, else would I have left all to come 
to you.” 

Canute half pressed the huge paw and then half 
spurned it. “ It was in my mind to give you a great 
scolding when I got you again. I thought you had 
drunk sea-water and blood out of a magic horn and 
forgotten me utterly. You must have gotten yourself 
fitted out for the rest of your life since at last you 
were willing to leave.” 

“ Lord,” Rothgar began, “ I have come back to 
you as poor as I went — ” 

But the King interrupted him, as at that moment, 
in the figure hesitating at the door, he recognized his 
missing ward. “ Say not so, when you have brought 
back the bright blade we mourned as lost ! ” He put 
out his other hand with a gleam of pleasure in his 
changeful eyes. “Welcome to you, Fridtjof the Bold! 
I should like to believe that you are as glad to return 
to me as I am glad to receive you.” 

184 


THE SWORD OF SPEECH 


As she stood there watching him, Randalin had 
been undergoing a strange transformation. For four 
months she had almost forgotten his existence, he had 
been little more than an empty name, while she gave 
every energy of mind and heart to the things about 
her. But now, behold! One sight of his life-full face, 
one moment in his dominating presence, and those 
months were swept into the land of dreams. His deeds 
alone appeared vital; he alone seemed real. She, the 
Etheling himself, were but as shadows depending upon 
his sun-like career. If he should choose to shine upon 
them, what dark evil could come nigh? It was in all 
sincerity that she bent her knee as she took his hand. 
“ Lord,” she cried impulsively, “ I have brought you 
back a loyal heart ! I have been very close to the Eng- 
lish King, and he is unworthy to hold your sword.” 

Canute gave a sudden laugh; but it was a short 
one, and he turned away abruptly to begin a restless 
pacing to and fro. “ You choose your words in a 
thoughtful way,” he said. “ It is seen that you do not 
say how it would be if he were to hold his sword 
against mine.” Pausing before Rothgar, he jerked his 
head toward the scroll. “ Do you know what that is? 
That is a challenge from the Ironside.” 

“A challenge?” his listeners cried in chorus. 

He seemed to take petulant offence at their sur- 
prise. “ A challenge. Did you never hear the word 
before, that you stare like oxen? He invites me to 
settle this affair by single combat on the island, yon- 
der; and there is the greatest sense in what he says. 

i8 5 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Every one who has a man’s wit is tired of the strife; 
and if we continue at it, there will not be much to win 
besides ashes and bones.” 

Rothgar sat gazing at the wooden door as though 
he could see through it the huddled groups outside. 
“ Now by no means do I think it strange that your 
host is not in high spirits,” he said. 

With an impatient shrug the King moved on 
again. “ It has happened, then, that the news has 
spread? I wonder whether they are troubling them- 
selves most for fear that I shall undertake this fight 
and get killed, or for fear that I shall turn back from 
it and the war will be obliged to go on. And I should 
be glad if I knew what expectation was uppermost in 
the Gainer’s mind when he made the plan. For cer- 
tainly one sees his claw behind the pen.” 

“ May wolves tear him ! ” Rothgar burst out. 
“ Two kings he has used as oaten pipes, but never did 
I think that you would make the third.” 

Canute’s foot jarred upon the earth; his face was 
suddenly aflame. “ And never will I, while my head 
remains above ground! Now are you even more rash 
than you are wont! It is I who play on him, not he 
on me. Through him, as through a pipe, I have 
tempted Edmund on; and through him, as through a 
pipe, I have called Edmund off ; and as with a broken 
pipe I shall part with him when I am done, — and think 
it no falseness either, since I know for certain that it 
is the fate he has in store for me, as soon as I cease to 
be gainful for him.” The worst of the young chief’s 

186 


THE SWORD OF SPEECH 


nature showed for an instant in the smile that widened 
his nostrils. Then it gave way to another flash of 
temper. “ Nor am I a pipe for your plaything, either. 
What ! Am I to be as a child between you and 
Thorkel, that each time I follow the advice of one of 
you, I am to get a tongue-lashing from the other? 
Have you not got it into your head that I am your 
King? ” 

Rothgar gave a short laugh. “ I do not know if 
I have got it into my head or not,” he said ; “ but I 
am certain that my body is aware of your kingship.” 
He did not even move his eyes toward the stump of 
his wrist, but Canute turned from him suddenly, his 
lip caught in his teeth, and once more strode up and 
down the narrow space. 

After the fourth round, he stopped and laid his 
hands affectionately upon his foster-brother’s shoul- 
ders. “ Too long have we endured each other’s rough- 
ness, comrade, for you to think that unfriendliness is 
in my mind because I foam over in this way. I tell 
you, you would not wonder at it if you knew the state 
of my feelings. And I will not conceal it that I am 
glad you have come to share them — though I have 
not the intention to heed a word of your advice,” he 
added, half laughing, half threatening. Pushing the 
other down upon the rough bunk, he seated himself 
beside him, his elbows on his knees, his chin cupped 
in his palms. 

“ The host is full of impatience ; and I am weary 
unto madness. Never do we come to any end, nor 

187 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


ever shall until that time when the wolf shall catch the 
sun ! I have nowhere heard of a more foolish war than 
this. It was in my mind, as you came in, that I would 
send a favorable answer to the Englishman and get 
the matter decided, one way or another.” 

Even Randalin uttered a cry; and Rothgar caught 
his King by the arm as though to snatch him out of 
bodily peril. 

“Only one way would be possible, Canute! Your 
waist is not so big as one of his arms. His sword 
would cleave you as if it cut water.” 

Half laughing, but more resentful, the King freed 
himself. “ Now do you hold my power so lightly? 
More than once have I gotten under your guard. If 
skill could accomplish anything, you would not have 
to wait long for what I should fix upon.” He broke 
off with a shrug and flung himself back upon the straw 
of the bunk. “ Let us speak of something else,” he 
said. “ What did the boy say about having seen 
Edmund? ” 

Somewhat ramblingly, as uncertain of his interest, 
Randalin told him of her glimpse of the Ironside ; and 
he listened lying back on the straw, his eyes fixed on 
the ceiling. She had begun to think he had forgotten 
her, when all at once he shot out a swift question: 
“ Did you never find out what the wool was that Edric 
Jarl pulled over his eyes?” 

“ Not unless one could guess it from what King 
Edmund said, lord, — that the Jarl had found them 
so much cleverer than he expected that his victory was 

188 


THE SWORD OF SPEECH 


without relish to him, and he was desirous to regain 
their friendship.” 

A distinct chuckle came from Canute, and some 
murmur about the Ironside’s chin. Then he said, “ Go 
on, and tell me everything you can remember ” ; and 
once more lay staring at the ceiling in silence. 

He did not appear to notice it when she stopped; 
the pause lasted so long that Rothgar concluded that 
sleep had overtaken their host and rose softly to betake 
himself to such cheer as the fires offered. As he made 
the first step, however, Canute sat up suddenly, strik- 
ing his fist upon the bunk. 

“ I will do it ! ” he said. While they stared, he 
rose and recommenced his hurried pacing, his eyes 
keen and far away, his mouth set in grim resolve. 

“Do what, King?” the son of Lodbrok ventured 
at last. 

Canute’s eyes appeared to rest upon the pair with- 
out seeing them. “ Accept the challenge,” he answered 
absently. Then the utter horror in both faces brought 
him momentarily back. “ You need not look like that. 
I would not do it if I did not see a good chance to win. 
There are other weapons than those which dwell in 
sheaths.” 

“But if you lose?” Rothgar’s harsh voice was 
discordant with emotion. “If you lose?” 

The King silenced him impatiently. “ I do not 
think I shall lose; but if it be otherwise, then Fate will 
rule it. I prefer to risk everything rather than to ex- 
perience more delay.” Catching the bewildered page 

189 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


by the collar, he pushed him toward the door. “ Run, 
boy, with all the speed of your legs, and find Ingimund 
the Swimmer and fetch him here. And you, foster- 
brother, if my fame is important to you, do you be- 
take yourself to those dumpish oafs around the fires 
and try, by any means whatever, to remedy their faint- 
heartedness. Ask them if they want the host across 
the river to think them turned into a herd of weeping 
bondwomen. Ask them if they think thus to show 
honor to their King. Tell them that I take it as no 
proof of their love; that I will have none of that halt- 
ing faith which limps up with a great cry after the 
show is over. Tell them — Oh, tell them anything you 
think worth while — only that you get some noise out 
of them! Evil will come of it if the Englishman is 
allowed to believe that he has beaten us before ever 
he has struck a blow.” 

Rothgar sighed as he moved forward. “ I am very 
unfit to speak words of cheerfulness to anybody; but 
this shall, like other things, be as you wish.” 


190 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE IRON VOICE 


His power should 
Every sagacious man 
Use with discretion, 

For he will find, 

When among the bold he comes, 
That no one alone is doughtiest. 

HAVAMAL. 


OLD by fold, the sun's 
golden fingers drew apart 
the mists that hid the val- 
ley. One by one, the red 
Severn cliffs were uncov- 
ered, and the wooded steeps 
'on which the rival hosts 
Iwere encamped. Brighter 
and brighter the river's 
[silver gleamed through its 
Finally the moment came when the last 
mist-wreath floated up like a curtain, and there lay 
open the shining water, and the rocky islet it seethed 
about, and the vision of two boats setting forth from 
the two shores amid the noise of shouting thousands. 
It was the hour of the royal duel, when the fate-thread 
of a nation, beaded with human destinies, lay between 

191 



veilings. 



THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


the fingers of two men. What a scattering of the beads 
if the cord should be cut! 

Under the elms of the east bank, the daughter of 
Frode stood and watched the boats set out; and the 
hands that hung at her side opened and shut as though 
they were gasping for breath. For a moment she tor- 
tured herself with the thought that she knew not which 
side to pray for, since the victory of either would mean 
her beloved’s undoing; then she forgot Sebert’s future 
in her own present. Turning, she found herself facing a 
wall of stalwart bodies, a sea of coarse faces, and dis- 
covered, with a sudden tightening of her muscles, that 
all the eyes which were not following the boat were 
centred curiously upon herself. 

Before she could take a step, the nearest warrior 
thrust out a hand and caught her by her black locks. 
“ Stop a little, my Bold One,” he said gruffly. “Now that 
you have a moment to spare from the high-born folk, 
it is the wish of us churls to hear some of your news.” 

A score of heavy voices seconded the demand, and 
the wall gradually curved into a circle around her. 
They were good-natured enough, — even the grasp on 
her hair was roughly playful, — but her heart seemed 
to stop in her as a swimmer’s might the first instant 
he lost sight of land and beheld only towering billows 
looming around him. She darted one swift glance at 
her knife, and another at an old willow-tree that over- 
hung the bank, some thirty yards away. But even as 
she thought it, the hand left her hair and closed about 
her wrist. 


192 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE IRON VOICE 

“ No cause for knife-play or leg-play either, my 
hawk,” the gruff voice rebuked her. “ To no one are 
we more anxious to show friendship than to Canute’s 
ward; and you act like no true man if you cannot, 
when occasion requires, leave off your high-born ways 
and be a plain comrade among plain men.” 

Again a murmur approved his words : “ That is 
well spoken. Frode of Avalcomb would be the first 
to thank us for teaching it to you.” . . . “ He carried 
no such haughty head, young boy. I fought more than 
one battle at his heels.” . . . “ Come on, now ! ” . . . 
“ Make haste! We want to get into place before they 
come to land.” 

This time it was not a shadow but a sparkle of 
sunshine that mocked in Randalin’s ear: “You have 
not dared to be a woman, so you must dare to be a 
man.” She acknowledged the pitiless truth with a 
sigh of submission. 

“ Take your hands off me, and it shall be as you 
wish.” 

The big Swede released her wrist to catch her 
around the waist and toss her like a bone upon the 
platter of his shield, which four of them promptly 
raised between them and bore along, laughing uproari- 
ously at her sprawling efforts for dignity. When they 
came to a spot along the bank which was open enough 
to give them an unobstructed view of the island, they 
permitted her to scramble down and seat herself upon 
the grass, where they ringed themselves around her, 
twenty deep. 

*3 


i93 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Now for it ! While they are waiting for Edmund 
to land; before there is anything to watch,” the Scar- 
Cheek commanded. “ Tell what you told Canute with 
regard to the English King which made him so reck- 
less as to agree to this bargain.” 

There was nothing for it but obedience. A flower 
in a thicket of thistles, a lamb in the midst of wolves, 
she sat and watched the tipping of the scales that had 
her fortune among their weights. 

A shout from the surging mass of English oppo- 
site told when the Ironside had landed; and as soon 
as it was seen whom he had chosen to accompany him 
as his witness, a buzz of excitement passed along the 
Danish line. 

“ Edric ! by all the gods, Edric Jarl!” 

“ Now, for the first time, I believe that victory 
will follow Canute’s sword!” Brass Borgar ejaculated. 
“ Since nothing less than the madness betokening 
death could cause Edmund to continue his trust in the 
Gainer, it is seen from this that he is a death-fated 
man.” 

From the others there came a volley of epithets, 
so foul a flight that the girl’s knuckles whitened in her 
struggles to keep her hands down from her ears. A 
picture rose in her mind of Sebert’s dream-lady, pass- 
ing her waiting-time among soft-voiced maids, and her 
heart turned sick within her. 

It was little time that the pack gave her for revery, 
however; now it was Edric Jarl of whom they wanted 
to hear. 


194 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE IRON VOICE 

“ While they are talking about the terms, there is 
nothing to look at; tell us how the Gainer pulled the 
net around King Edmund,” the rough voices demanded. 
And again she was obliged to bend her wits to their 
task. 

But it came at last, the end that was the begin- 
ning. Suddenly a hand reached around her neck and 
shut over her mouth. “ Stop ! They are taking their 
places. Look ! ” 

He need not have added that last word; from 
that moment for many thousands of eyes there was 
but one object in the world, — the strip of rock- 
ribbed earth and the two figures that faced each other 
upon it. 

As they fixed their gaze on their champion, the 
English yelled exultantly, and the Danes bravely 
rivalled them in noise; but it was more a cry of rage 
and grief than a cheer. Now that the royal duellists 
stood forth together, stripped of cloak and steel shirt, 
and wearing no other helm than the golden circlet of 
their rank, their inequality was even more glaring than 
alarmed fancy had painted it. The crown of Canute’s 
shining locks reached only to the chin of the mighty 
Ironside; and the width of nearly two palms was 
needed on his shoulders. 

Borgar turned, with tears in his bleared eyes, and 
threw himself face-downward on the earth; and the 
fellow next to him, with the mien of a madman, thrust 
his mantle between his teeth and bit and tore at it like 
a dog. “ It is murder,” he snarled, “ murder.” 

i9S 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Of all the Northmen, the young King alone ap- 
peared serenely undisturbed. When he had saluted 
the Ironside with royal courtesy, he met his sword as 
though he were beginning a practising bout with his 
foster-brother. Smoothly, evenly, without haste or 
fury, the blades began to sing their wordless song to 
the listening banks. 

After a time Borgar dared to raise his face from 
the grass. “Is he yet alive?” he whispered. 

The men did not seem to hear him. Humped over 
the earth, with starting eyes and necks stretched to their 
uttermost, they were like so many boulders. Nor did 
Frode’s daughter seem to feel that the hand the Brass 
One had raised himself upon was crushing her foot; 
she did not even glance toward him as she answered: 
“ Simpleton ! Do you think the King does not know 
how to handle his weapon? If only his strength — ” 

Her sentence was not finished, and the man next 
to her drew in his breath with a great whistling rush. 
Canute’s weapon, playing with the lightness of a sun- 
beam, had evaded a stroke of the great flail and touched 
for an instant the shoulder of its wielder. Had he put 
a pound more force into the thrust — A groan crept 
down the Danish line when the bright blade rose, as 
lightly as it had fallen, and continued its butterfly 
dance. It consoled them a little, however, that no 
cheer went up from the English, — only a low buzz 
that was half of anger, half of astonishment. 

Farther along the eastern bank, where Thorkel 
the Tall stood beside Ulf Jarl and Eric of Norway, 

196 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE IRON VOICE 


there was not even a groan. The first rift came in the 
puzzled clouds of Eric’s face. “ Here is the first hap- 
pening that makes me hope ! ” he said. “ If he has 
something more than his fencing accomplishment to 
support him, it may be that an unfavorable outcome 
need not be expected.” 

The Tall One’s brows relaxed ever so little from 
their snarl of worry. “ The boy has experienced good 
training, for all that he has at present the appearance 
of a great fool. If Rothgar’s warrior skill is in his 
arm, yet my caution should be in his head.” 

Certainly there was no Berserk madness about the 
young Danishman; there was hardly even seriousness. 
Now his blade was a fleeing will-o’-the-wisp, keeping 
just out of reach of Edmund’s brand with apparently 
no thought but of flight. Now, when the Ironside’s 
increasing vehemence betrayed him into an instant’s 
rashness, it was a humming-bird darting into a flower- 
cup. But it always rose again as daintily as it had 
alighted. 

The Danish bank was frantic with excitement. 
“ It is the dance of the Northern Lights ! ” they cried. 
“ Thor has sent him his own sword ! ” 

The lines of English were wild with anger. “Crush 
him, the hornet, the wasp ! Crush him, Edmund ! ” they 
roared. 

In his exultation, the Scar-Cheek rolled himself 
over and over on the grass, and wound up by thrust- 
ing his shaggy head into the lap of the red-cloaked 
page. “I must do something for joy,” he panted; 

1 97 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 

“and — except for your hair — you look near enough 
like a handsome woman. Do you bend down and kiss 
me every time Canute pricks him.” 

His head fell to the ground with a thump as the 
child of Frode leaped to her feet. 

“ If you lay finger on me again,” she whispered, 
“ I will caress you with this ! ” and for an instant a 
knife-blade glittered before the bulging eyes. Snorri 
rolled back with alacrity and an oath; and after a 
moment Frode’s daughter dropped down again and 
hid her face in her hands. If the King should be 
slain and she be left adrift in this foul sea! She might 
as well have screamed as moaned, for all that they 
would have noticed. 

About this time Canute’s blade appeared to have 
become in earnest. Ceasing its airy defence, it took 
on the aggressive. Instead of a flitting sunbeam, it 
became a shaft from a burning glass; instead of one 
merry humming-bird, it became a whole swarm of 
skimming, swooping, darting swallows, waging war 
on a bewildered owl. Before the sudden fury of the 
onslaught, Edmund gave back a pace. And either 
because his anger made him reckless or his great bulk 
was against him, he presently was forced to draw back 
another step. Wildest cheers went up from the North- 
men. It seemed as though they would wade in a body 
across the river. 

Only Eric of Norway stamped with uneasiness; 
and the overhanging brows of Thorkel the Tall were 
as lowering hoods above his eyes. “ Well has he 

198 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE IRON VOICE 


hoarded his strength/’ he muttered. “ Well has he 
saved it, yet — yet — ” 

At that moment such a roar went up from North- 
ern throats as might well have startled the wolf’s 
shadow off the face of the sun; for Edmund Iron- 
side had retreated a third step, and the Dane’s point 
appeared to lie at the Englishman’s heart. Then the 
uproar died somewhere in mid-air, for in what seemed 
the very act of thrusting, Canute had leaped backward 
and lowered his blade. So deep was the hush on either 
side the river that the whir of a bird’s wing sounded 
as loud as a flight of arrows. Bending forward, with 
strained ears and starting eyes, the spectators saw that 
the Northern King was speaking, eagerly, with now 
and then an impulsive gesture, while the English King 
listened motionless. 

“Has he got out of his wits?” the Scar-Cheek 
roared, fairly dancing with impatience. 

In Randalin’s face a flash of memory was strug- 
gling with bewilderment. “ Other weapons than those 
which dwell in sheaths.” Had he meant “ the sword 
of speech,” his tongue? 

With the deliberate grace which characterized his 
every motion, the Ironside slid his sword back to its 
case, and they saw him take a slow step forward and 
slowly extend his hand. Then they saw Canute spring 
to meet him, and their palms touch in a long grasp. 

From the English shore there went up a ‘joyful 
shout of “ Peace ! ” And a deafening clamor rose in 
answer from the Danish bank. But what sentiment 

199 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


predominated in that, it would be difficult to say. 
Blended with rejoicing over their King’s safety, were 
cries of bitter disappointment, the cries of thirsty men 
who have seen wine dashed from their lips. 

In their retreat, the two Northern jarls and the 
young monarch’s foster-father faced each other uncer- 
tainly. “Here is mystery!” Eric of Norway said at last. 
“ I should be thankful if you would tell me whether 
he thought it unwise to kill the Englishman before the 
face of his army ; or whether he is in truth struck with 
love toward him, as the fools seem to believe?” 

“ Or whether he had reached the exact limit of his 
strength so that he was obliged to save himself by 
some trick of words?” Ulf Jarl suggested. 

The Tall One shook his head slowly. “ Now, as 
always, it is he alone who can altogether explain his 
actions. It might easily be that in his mad impatience 
he overvalued his strength, so that he was obliged to 
stop short to keep within bounds. But I think you 
will find that there is still some trick which is not 
open to our sight. His man-wit is deepening very fast ; 
I will not be so bold as to say that I can always 
fathom it.” 

“ Perhaps he thinks a short peace would be useful 
to the host,” the Norwegian said, and laughed. “ Such 
a truce is as comfortable as a cloak when the weather 
is stark, and as easy to get rid of when the sun comes 
out.” 

By their faces, the others appeared to agree with 
him; but before they could express themselves, a 


200 


THE JUDGMENT OF THE IRON VOICE 

swimmer rose like a dripping seal out of the water at 
their feet. 

“ Peace and division again ! ” he cried breathlessly. 
“ And it is the King’s will that you get into a boat and 
come to him at once.” 

The rush of the crowd to the water-side to ques- 
tion the messenger gave Randalin her chance for free- 
dom; and she was not slow in taking it. A moment 
more, and she was in the very top of the willow-tree, 
clasping her hands and wringing them in alternate 
thanksgiving and terror. 

“ Whatever it bring upon me, I will get back to 
my woman’s clothes,” she vowed to herself over and 
over. “ Though it become a hindrance to me, though 
it be the cause of my death, I will be a woman always. 
Odin forgive me that I thought I had courage enough 
to be a man ! ” 



1 1- 


201 


CHAPTER XVIII 


WHAT THE RED CLOAK HID 


At eve, the day is to be praised; 

A woman, after she is dead. 

HAVAMAL. 



N the vault overhead blue 
had deepened into purple, 
all the silver star-lamps 
had been hung out, their 
flames trembling unceas- 
ingly in the playing winds. 

the soft light, the Jotun, 
who was striding across the 
Danish camp, saw a grace- 
ful boyish form leave the 
circle around the King’s fire and join a group of 
mounted men waiting on the river bank, some fifty 
yards away. 

“Ho there, Fridtjof!” he roared wrathfully. 

The figure turned, and he had a fleeting glimpse 
of a hand waved in mocking farewell. Then the boy 
sprang into the saddle of a horse that one of the war- 
riors was holding, and the whole band moved forward 
at a swinging pace. 


202 



WHAT THE RED CLOAK HID 


“ If you had waited a little, you would be less 
light on your feet,” the Jotun growled as he strode 
on, striking his heels savagely upon the frosty 
ground. 

“Where is the King?” he demanded, as soon as 
he had reached the ring of nobles sipping mead around 
the royal fire. Between swallows, they were carrying 
on a heated discussion of the day’s events; but Eric 
of Norway stopped long enough to nod toward the 
wattled hut beneath the silken banner. 

“ In there ; and I will give you this chain off my 
neck if you can guess what he is doing.” 

“ It is likely that he is busy with messengers,” 
Rothgar said with an accent of vexation. “ I had 
hoped to reach him before he finished drinking, but 
there was a brawl among my men which — ” 

“ He is playing chess,” Eric said dryly. 

“ Chess ! ” 

The Norwegian nodded as he swallowed. “ Heard 
you ever anything to equal that? He has the appear- 
ance of a boy who has been released from a lesson. 
I wish that you had been here to see him at meal-time. 
So full of jests and banter was he that I could scarcely 
eat for laughing. Yet when I took courage from his 
good-nature to ask him concerning his plans for the 
future, he pretended that he did not hear me, and put 
an end to questioning by bidding Ulf come and play 
chess with him in the hut. Whether he is mad, or 
bewitched, or feigning like Amleth, it is not easy to 
tell.” 


203 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ I do not think it is any of these,” Rothgar said 
slowly. “ I think it is because he likes it so well that 
he has got peace in which to amuse himself. Sooner 
would he hunt than fight, any day; and I have often 
seen him express pleasure in this manner. I remember 
how his wife Elfgiva once said of him that it was 
well his crown was no more than a ring of gold, for 
then, when his mood changed, he could use it for such 
a gold hoop as kings’ children are wont to play with.” 

“ Said Elfgiva of Northampton that? ” Eric asked 
in surprise. “ Never would I have believed her so 
wise in words. That she is the most beautiful of 
women, all the world knows; but I have always sup- 
posed that her wit stopped with her temper, which is 
suspected to be shorter than her hair.” 

Rothgar grunted scornfully. “ It is easy for a fool 
to speak some wisdom if she keeps her tongue moving 
all the time.” 

Laughing, the Norwegian plunged again into the 
general discussion; and the son of Lodbrok stood lis- 
tening discontentedly, while he kept a sharp watch of 
the low-browed entrance. 

Presently his patience was rewarded. Within the 
hut there arose all at once a duet of voices, half angrily 
accusing, half laughingly protesting. Then the chess- 
board came flying through the doorway, followed by 
a handful of chessmen and the person of the big good- 
natured Jarl, still uttering his laughing protests. And 
finally Canute himself stood under the lintel, storming 
through his laughter. 


204 


WHAT THE RED CLOAK HID 


“ Blockhead, that you cannot keep your thoughts 
on what you are doing! One might expect as good a 
game from the tumbler’s dog. Is it the drink that you 
have got into your head, or the war matters that you 
cannot get out? You deserve — ” 

“ To lose the honor of playing with the King,” the 
Jotun broke in, making a long step forward. “ Be so 
good as to allow me to take his place, lord. I have 
some words for your ear which are worth a hearing.” 

“ Rothgar ! ” the King exclaimed with great cor- 
diality, and stepped from the doorway to meet him. 
“ Willingly do I make the change, for I have been 
wishing to speak with you this last hour. I have 
thought of a fine plan for to-morrow’s sport.” Laying 
his arm boy-fashion across his foster-brother’s shoul- 
ders, he swung him around toward the river. “ But 
we will not go in there to do our talking. We will 
walk along the shore. To-night I feel as though I 
could walk to the rainbow-bridge.” He shook back 
his headful of long hair and drew a deep breath, like 
a man from whom a burden has been lifted. 

As they strolled beside the moonlit water, the son 
of Lodbrok listened in secret amazement to the string 
of plans that unfolded itself, — hunts and horse-races, 
swimming matches and fishing trips. 

“ But where will you get the fishing tackle, lord? 
And the hawks and the hounds for all this?” he ven- 
tured presently. 

They were some little distance up the bank now, 
where trees screened them from the camp-fires. Sud- 

205 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


denly the young King made a leaping grab at a bough 
overhead and hung by it, looking down at his com- 
panion with the face of a mischievous boy. 

“ How joyfully you will take my answer ! I have 
sent to Northampton for them. And I have bidden 
Elfgiva accompany them, with all her following of 
maids and lap-dogs and beardless boys. Before the 
end of the week, I expect that the Abbey guest-house 
will have the appearance of a woman’s bower; and 
the monks will have taken to the woods.” 

As his foster-brother stood gazing at him in 
speechless dismay, he laughed maliciously. ‘‘Where 
are your manners, partner, that you do not praise my 
foresight? Here am I eager to go to her to celebrate 
my victory; and yet because I think it unadvisable 
for me to leave the camp, I remain like a rock at my 
post. Where is your praise?” 

“ King,” Rothgar said gravely, “ is the truce going 
to last long enough to make it worth while to fetch 
those trinkets here?” 

His laughter vanishing, the King came to earth in 
both senses of the phrase. “ Now I do not know what 
you mean by that,” he said. “You were with me on 
the island. You heard what was said. You heard that 
we made peace together to last the whole of our lives, 
— in truth, longer; since he who outlives is to in- 
herit peacefully after him who dies. Did you not hear 
that?” 

Rothgar kicked a stone out of his way with im- 
patient emphasis. “ Oh, yes, I heard it. I heard also 

206 


WHAT THE RED CLOAK HID 


how you said that you would rather have the English- 
man’s friendship than his kingdom.” 

The eyebrows Canute had drawn down into a 
frown rose ironically. “ There is room in your breast 
for more sense, Rothgar, my brother, if you think, be- 
cause I am forced into one lie, that I never speak the 
truth,” he said. “ We will not talk of it further. I 
should like to remain good-humored to-night, if it were 
possible. What are the words you have waiting for 
my ears? ” 

The Jotun’s sudden frown quite eclipsed his eyes. 
“ It is not likely that I shall remain good-humored if 
I put my tongue to them. Oh ! Now it becomes clear 
in my mind what you have sent your black-haired fal- 
con down the wind after, — to carry your order to 
Northampton? ” 

“ Certainly it is,” Canute assented. “ When 
the boy found that I had need of a messenger, he 
begged it of me as a boon that he might be the one 
to carry the good news to my lady. I thought it 
a well-mannered way to show his thankfulness. 
But why is your voice so bitter when you speak of 
him? ” 

" Because I have just found out that he is a fox,” 
Rothgar bellowed. “ Because it has been borne in 
upon me that he has played me a foul trick, by which 
I lost property that was already under my hands ; lost 
it forever, Troll take him! if it be really true that we 
are to make no more warfare upon the lands south of 
the Watling Street.” 


207 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ It is not possible ! ” Canute ejaculated. “ He 
looks to be as truthful as Balder.” 

Rothgar uttered his favorite grunt. “ Never did 
I hear that Loke had crooked eyes or a tusk, and black 
hair grows on both of them. I tell you, I know it for 
certain. I have just been to find the English serf who 
became my man after Brentford; and he has told me 
what he says he tried to tell the night before we left 
Ivarsdale, but no one would listen to him without 
pounding him, — that the servant-maid, who informed 
him concerning the provision house, spoke also of a 
Danish page her lord had, whom he treated with such 
great love that it was commonly said he was be- 
witched. And before that, when the brat was telling 
you how the Englishman had saved him from Nor- 
man’s sword, it occurred to me that he talked more as 
a woman talks of her lover than as a man speaks of 
his foe. I had my mouth open to tax him with it, 
when you threw this duel at me like a rock and 
knocked everything else out of my head.” 

“ May the gallows take my body ! ” the King 
breathed. And he sat down upon a grassy hummock 
as suddenly as though a rock had been thrown at him 
that knocked the legs from under him. Nor did he get 
up immediately, but remained gazing at the string of 
bright beads which English camp-fires made along the 
opposite bluff, his face intent with pondering. 

Meanwhile the son of Lodbrok strode to and fro, 
declaiming wrathfully. “ There is not an honest bone 
in the imp’s body,” he wound up. “ It is certainly my 

208 


WHAT THE RED CLOAK HID 


belief that he was in league with the Englishman; and 
his freedom was the reward he got for drawing me off.” 

“ Certainly you are a very shrewd man,” Canute 
murmured. But something in his voice did not stand 
firm; his foster-brother darted him a keen glance. 
His suspicions were well founded. Canute’s face was 
crimson with suppressed laughter; he was biting his 
lips frantically to hold back his mirth. The temper 
of the son of Lodbrok left him in one inarticulate 
snarl. Turning on his heel, with a whirlwind of flying 
cloak and a thunder of clashing weapons, he would 
have stalked away if the King had not made him the 
most peremptory of gestures. 

“ No, wait! Wait, good brother! I will show you 
whether I offend you intentionally or not! It is — it 
is — the — the jest — ” Again he became unintelligible. 

Rothgar stopped, but it was to glower over his 
folded arms. “ Do you think I do not know as well 
as you that I behaved like a fool? What I dislike is 
that you cannot see as plainly that your ward is a 
troll. Because his womanish face has caught your 
fancy, you will neither blame him yourself nor allow 
others to make a fuss — ” 

“ That is where you are wrong,” the King inter- 
rupted, with as much gravity as he could command. 
“ When Fridtjof Frodesson comes again into your 
presence, I give you leave to take whatever revenge 
you like. Lash him with your tongue or your belt, as 
you will; and I promise that I will not lift finger to 
hinder you from it.” 

14 


209 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ And not hold it against me? ” Rothgar demanded 
incredulously. 

“ And not hold it against you,” Canute agreed. 
Then he tilted his head back to laugh openly in the 
other’s face. “ Will you wager a finger-ring against 
my knife that your mind will not change when my 
ward stands again before you? ” 

The Jotun smiled grimly. “ Is that the expecta- 
tion you are stringing your bow with? It will fail you 
as surely as the hair of Hother’s wife failed him. The 
wager shall be as you have made it; and may I lack 
strength if I do not deal with him — ” He paused, 
blinking like a startled owl, as his royal foster-brother 
leaped to his feet and fronted him with shouts of 
laughter. 

“ You dolt, you! ” Canute cried. “ Do you not see 
it yet? Frode’s child is a woman!” 

Rothgar’s jaw dropped and his bulging eyes seemed 
in danger of following. “ What ! ” he gasped ; and then 
his voice rose to a roar. “ And the Englishman is her 
lover?” 

“ You are wiser than I expected,” the King 
laughed. “ I intend to call you Thrym after this, 
for it is unlikely that Loke made a greater fool of the 
Giant. Your enemies will make derisive songs about 
it.” 

Stamping with rage, the Jotun hammered his huge 
fist upon a tree-trunk until bark flew in every direc- 
tion. “ King, I will give you every ring off my hand 
if you will give me leave to strangle her ! ” 


WHAT THE RED CLOAK HID 


“You remind me that I will take one of your 
rings now,” Canute said, reaching out and opening 
the mallet-like fist that he might make his choice. 
Then, as he fitted on his prize and held it critically 
to the light, he added with more sympathy : “ I will 
arrange for you a more profitable revenge than that. 
I will make a condition with Edmund that the Ethel- 
ing’s odal shall not be included in the land which is 
peace-holy, and that to ravage it shall not be looked 
upon as breaking the truce. Then can you betake 
yourself thither and sit down with your following, and 
have no one but yourself to blame if you fail a second 
time. Only,” — he thrust his knuckles suddenly be- 
tween the other’s ribs, — “ only, before we get serious 
over it, do at least give one laugh. Though she be 
Ran herself, the maiden has played an excellent joke 
upon you.” 

“ I do not see how you make out that it is all 
upon me,” Rothgar said sulkily. “ It did not appear 
that you got suspicious in any way, until I told you 
myself what she talked like. You did not have the 
appearance of choking much on her stories.” 

The King seemed all at once to recover his 
dignity. “ I will not deny that,” he said gravely ; “ and 
have I not said that I expect to be angry about it 
presently? Certainly I do not think she has treated 
me with much respect. That she did not tell you, is 
by no means to be wondered at; it might even count 
as something in her favor. But me she should have 
given her confidence. That she should dare to offer 

2 1 1 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


her King that lying story about her sister’s death — ” 
His face flushed as though he were remembering his 
emotion on receiving that same story; and his foster- 
brother’s observation did not tend to mollify him. 

“ And not only to offer it,” the son of Lodbrok 
chuckled, “ but to cram it down his throat and make 
him swallow it.” 

Canute’s heels also began to ring with ominous 
sharpness upon the frosty ground. “ She must be Ran 
herself! Oh, you need not be afraid that I shall not 
get overbearing enough after I am started! Had she 
been no more than her father’s daughter, her behavior 
would have been sufficiently bad; but that she whom 
I had made my ward should withhold her confidence 
from me to give it to an Englishman! Become his 
thrallwoman, by Odin, and betray my people for his 
sake! Now, as I am a king, I will punish her in a 
way that she will like less than strangling! I tell you, 
her luck is great that she is not here to-night.” 


212 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE GIFT OF THE ELVES 


Fair shall speak 
And money offer, 

Who would obtain a woman’s love. 

HAVAMAL. 

T was the edge of a forest 
pool, and a slender dark- 
haired girl bending from the 
brink to see herself in the 
still water. Looking, she 
smiled, — and small wonder! 

Below her, framed in 
green rushes, was the reflec- 
ion of a high-born maiden 
dressed according to her 
rank. Clinging silk and jewelled girdle lent new grace 
to her lithesome form, while the mossy green of her 
velvet mantle brought out the rich coloring of her face 
as leaves bring out the glowing splendor of a rose. Gold 
was in the embroidery that stiffened her trailing skirts ; 
gold was sewn into her gloves, and golden chains twined 
in her lustrous hair added to the spirited poise of her 
head a touch of stateliness. No wonder that her mouth 
curved into a smile as she gazed. 

213 




THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ It cannot be denied that I look woman-like now,” 
she murmured. “ It is a great boon for me that he likes 
my hair. ,, 

Then the water lost both the reflection and the face 
above it as a sweet voice sounded up the bank, calling, 
“ Randalin ! Randalin!” 

Picking up the branchful of scarlet berries which 
she had dropped, Frode’s daughter moved toward the 
voice. “ Are they about to go, Dearwyn? ” she asked 
the little gentlewoman who came toward her around a 
hawthorn bush, lifting her silken skirts daintily. 

Dearwyn shook her head. “ My lady wishes to try 
on you the wreath she has made. She thinks your dark 
locks will set it off better than our light ones.” 

“ I was on my way thither,” Randalin said, quick- 
ening her steps. 

With timid friendliness in her pretty face, Dearwyn 
waited, and the Danish girl gave her a shy smile when 
at last they stood side by side ; but their acquaintance- 
ship did not appear to have reached the point of conver- 
sation, for they walked back in silence to the spot where 
the Lady Elfgiva’s train had halted on its journey for a 
noonday meal and rest. 

Along the bank of a pebbly stream, between pickets 
of mounted guards, the troop of holiday-folk was strung 
in scattered groups. Yonder, a body of the King’s 
huntsmen struggled with braces of leashed hounds. 
Here were gathered together the falconers bearing the 
King’s birds. Nearer, a band of grooms led the King’s 
blooded horses to the water. And nearer yet, where 

214 


THE GIFT OF THE ELVES 


the sun lay warm on a leafy glade, the King’s beautiful 
“ Danish wife ” took her nooning amid her following of 
maids and of pages, of ribboned wenches and baggage- 
laden slaves. 

As her glance fell upon this last picture, Randalin 
drew a quick breath of admiration. 

While they waited for the bondwomen to restore to 
the hampers the crystal goblets and gold-fringed nap- 
kins that even in the wood wastes must minister to such 
delicate lips, one merry little lady was launching fleets 
of beech-nut rinds down the stream; another, armed 
with a rush-spear, was making bold attack on the slum- 
bers of some woodland creature which she had spied out 
basking on the sunny side of a stump ; and in the centre 
of the open, the Lady Elfgiva was amusing herself with 
the treasures of red and gold leaves which silk-clad 
pages were bringing from the thicket. 

Gazing at her, Randalin’s admiration mounted to 
wistfulness. “ Were I like that, I should be sure of his 
feeling toward me,” she sighed. 

Certainly, as she looked to-day sitting under the 
towering trees, it was easy to understand why the 
King’s wife had been named “ the gift of the elves.” 
Every lovely thing in Nature had been robbed to make 
her, and only fairy fingers could have woven the sun’s 
gold into such tresses, or made such eyes from a scrap 
of June sky and a spark of opal fire. From the crown 
of her jewelled hair to the toe of her little red shoe, 
there was not one line misplaced, one curve forgotten, 
while her motions were as graceful as blowing willows. 

215 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


When the pair came toward her over the carpet of 
leather-hued leaves, she put out a white hand in beck- 
oning. “ Come here, my Valkyria, and let me try if I 
can make you look still more like a gay bird from over 
the East Sea.” 

‘‘You have made me look a very splendid bird, 
lady,” Randalin said gratefully, as she knelt to receive 
the woodland crown. 

Elfgiva patted the brown cheeks in acknowledg- 
ment, and also in delight at the effect of her handiwork. 
“ You are an honor to my art. Do you know that the 
night before you came to me I dreamed I held a burning 
candle in my hand, and that is known by everybody to 
be a sign of good. A hundred plans are in my mind 
against the time that this peace shall be over, and we 
are obliged to return to that loathful house where we 
suffer so much with dulness that the quarrels of my 
little brats are the only excitement we have.” 

Still kneeling for the white fingers to pat and pull 
at her head-dress, Randalin looked up wonderingly. “ Is 
it your belief that King Canute will not carry out his 
intention, lady, that you say ‘ when the peace is over * ? 
I know for certain that it is expected to last forever.” 

“ Forever? ” The lady’s voice was an echo of sweet 
mockery. “ Take half a kingdom when a whole lies 
almost within his reach? Now I will not deny that the 
King is sometimes boyish of mood, but rarely that 
foolish.” She seemed to toss the idea from her with the 
leaves she shook from her robe as she rose and moved 
back a step to see the wreath from a new point. “ Turn 

216 


THE GIFT OF THE ELVES 

your head this way, child. Yes, there is still one thing 
wanting on this side ; berries if I have them, or grasses 
if I have not, — here are more berries! Oh, yes, I de- 
clare that I expect to be very merry through your 
spirits! You shall have the rule over my pages and 
devise games and junketings without end.” 

Humming gayly, she began to weave in the bright 
berries; and it struck Randalin that here was a good 
opportunity to make the plea she had in her mind. She 
said gravely, “ I shall be thankful if you are able to 
manage it, lady, so that I may go back with you.” 

Pausing in her work, Elfgiva looked down in sur- 
prise. “Now what should prevent?” she asked. 

The girl colored a little as she answered : “ It was 
in the King’s mind once, lady, that a good way to dis- 
pose of Randalin, Frode’s daughter, would be to marry 
her to the son of Lodbrok. If he should still keep that 
opinion — I would prefer to die ! ” she ended abruptly. 

But the King’s wife laughed her rippling laughter 
that had in it all the music of falling waters. “ Shed 
no tears over that, ladybird! Would I be apt to let 
such an odious bear as Rothgar Lodbroksson rob me of 
my newest plaything? Whence to my dulness a pas- 
time but for your help? Though he were the King’s 
blood-brother, he should tell for naught. You do not 
guess half the entertainment your wild ways will be to 
me. I expect it will be more pleasant for me to have 
you than that Norman ape which Canute sent me at the 
beginning of the summer, — which is dead now, unfor- 
tunately, because Harald would insist upon shooting 

217 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


his arrows into it. There! Now my work could not 
be improved upon.” Again she moved back, her beauti- 
ful head tilted in birdlike examination. Randalin arose 
slowly and stood before her with widening eyes. 

But it was not long that the Lady of Northampton 
had for her or for the wreath. Now her attention was 
attracted to the farthest group of guards and huntsmen, 
whose motions and shouting seemed to indicate some 
unusual commotion. Bending, she peered curiously 
under the branches. “ I wonder if it has happened that 
the King has sent someone to meet us? ” she exclaimed. 

“ I see a gleam of scarlet, lady,” the maiden of the 
riverbank came to tell her eagerly. 

But even as Elfgiva was turning to despatch a page 
for news, the throng of moving figures parted, and from 
it two horsemen emerged and rode toward them. One 
was the mighty son of Lodbrok, clad in the scarlet 
mantle and gilded mail of the King’s guard. The other, 
who wore no armor at all, only feasting-clothes of purple 
velvet, was the King himself. 

The whole troop of butterfly pages rushed forward 
to take possession of the horses ; the little gentlewomen 
made a fluttering group behind their mistress; and 
Elfgiva, laughing in sweetest mockery, swept back her 
rosy robes in a lowly reverence. 

“ Hail, lord of half a kingdom but of the whole of 
my heart ! ” she greeted him. 

Canute seemed to drink in her fairness like wine; 
his face was boyish in its radiance as he leaped from 
his horse before her. “ What! The first word a gibe? ” 

218 


THE GIFT OF THE ELVES 


he cried, then caught her in his arms and stilled her 
silvery laughter with his lips. 

It was so charming a picture that Randalin smiled 
in sympathy, where she stood a little way behind the 
young wife, awaiting the moment when the King should 
have leisure to discover her. Not the faintest doubt of 
his friendliness was in her mind. She was still smiling, 
when at last he raised his head and looked at her over 
Elfgiva’s shoulder. 

Then alas, the smile died, murdered, on her lips. 

Turning, Canute beckoned to the son of Lodbrok, 
who was enduring the scene with the same stolid resig- 
nation which he displayed toward his chief’s other 
follies. “ Foster-brother, how comes it that you do not 
follow my example and embrace the bride that I have 
given you? ” 

As ice breaks and reveals sullen waters underneath, 
so stolidity broke in Rothgar’s face. With a harsh 
laugh, he strode forward. 

Perhaps it was to follow the King’s suggestion, 
perhaps it was only to vent his reproaches; but Ran- 
dalin did not wait to see. Before she knew how she 
got there, she was at Elfgiva’s side, clutching at her 
mantle. 

“Lady! You promised me — ” she cried. 

And for all her chiming laughter, Elfgiva’s silken 
arm was stretched out like a bar. “No further, good 
Giant ! ” she said gayly. “ The King gave what was not 
his, for this toy has become mine.” She turned to 
Canute with a little play of smiling pouts, very bewitch- 

2T9 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


ing on such lips. “ Fie, my lord ! Be pleased to call 
your wolves off my lambs.” 

Plainly, Canute’s frown was unable to withstand 
such witcheries. Despite himself he laughed, and his 
voice was more persuasive than commanding. “ Now 
he will not rob you of the girl, my Shining One. Once 
he has wedded her, you may keep her until you tire. 
It was only because — ” 

But there he stopped, for all at once a mist had 
come over the heavenly eyes, and the smiling lips had 
drawn themselves into a trembling bunch. The sweet 
voice too was subtly tremulous. 

“ It is because you are to a greater degree anxious 
to please him than me, though it is a whole year 
that I have pined away, day and night, in the utmost 
loneliness. Wel-a-way! What! Why have you 
troubled to send for me, if you hold my happiness so 
lightly that you will not comply with me in so small 
a matter? ” Bridling softly, she was turning away, 
when the young King threw up his hands in good- 
humored surrender. 

“ To this I will quickly reply that my shield does 
not secure me against tears! If it is not to your wish 
we will not speak of it. Give back, foster-brother, and 
choose two of the others to be your drinking-compan- 
ions. Look up, my fair one, and admit that I am the 
most obedient of your thralls. Never, on former days or 
since, have I so much as kicked one of your little yelp- 
ing dogs, though I hate them as Stark Otter hated 
bells.” 


220 


THE GIFT OF THE ELVES 


Sunshine through the mist, Elfgiva laughed. “Nay, 
but you have them drowned when I am not looking,” 
she retorted. 

He did not take the trouble to deny it; indeed he 
laughed as though the accusation was especially apt. 
“ Have I ever wounded you more deeply than a trinket 
would cure ? ” he demanded. 

And behold, she had already forgotten the matter, 
to catch at the huge arm-ring which was slipping up 
and down his sleeve, so loose a fit was it. “ What 
Grendel’s neck did you take it from! If it had but 
an opening, I could use it for a belt.” 

Smiling, the King looked down on his monster 
bracelet. “ That,” he said, “ does not altogether do me 
credit, for it shows the difference in girth between 
me and Edmund Ironside. When we set the peace 
between us, we exchanged ornaments and weapons. 
Think if we had followed the custom in every respect 
and exchanged garments likewise ! ” 

Elf-fires were in Elfgiva’s blue eyes when she raised 
them to his. “ Rule your words so that no one else 
hears you say that, bright Lord of the Danes,” she mur- 
mured, “ lest they think you mean by it that the English 
crown would fit you as loosely, and forget that you are 
a boy who will grow.” 

The King’s mouth sobered. “ Nay, a man, who has 
got his growth.” 

Her little hand spurned the ring that the instant 
before it had caressed. “Not a man, but a King!” 
she reminded him, and drew herself up proudly be- 


221 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 

fore him, a queen in beauty, crowned with the sun’s 
gold. 

His eyes devoured her; his breath seemed to come 
faster as he looked. All at once he caught her hands 
and crushed them against his lips. “ Neither man nor 
king,” he cried, “ but the lover who has adored you 
since he came to plunder but stayed to wool Do you 
know that when I came upon you to-day, my heart burst 
into flower as a tree blooms in the spring-time? Had 
I a harp in my hand, my lips would blossom into song. 
Get me one from your minstrels, and I will sing to you 
as we ride, and we will forget that a day has passed 
since the time when first we roved together through 
the Northampton meadows.” 

Forgetful of all the world beside, he led her away 
toward the horses. 


222 


CHAPTER XX 


A ROYAL RECKONING 


A tale is always half told if only one man tells it. 

GRETTI’S SAGA. 

kHETHER from policy or 
necessity, the guest-house 
of Gloucester Abbey was 
[surrendered to the royal 
band with open-armed hos- 
pitality. Every comfort the 
place afforded was heaped 
together to soften the bare 
rooms for the accommoda- 
tion of the noble ladies ; 
every delicacy the epicurean abbot could obtain loaded 
the table ; and what little grass the frost had left in the 
cloister garth was sacrificed to the swarm of pages and 
henchmen, minstrels and tumblers. Now a tournament 
of games in the riverside meadows took up the day, now 
a pageant up the river itself; again, a ride with the 
hawks or a run after the hounds, — and the nights were 
one long revel. Time slipped by like a song off the lips 
of a harper. 

To-day it was to chase a boar over the wooded hills 
that the holiday troop was awake and stirring at sun- 

223 




THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


rise. The silvery bell-notes that called the monks to 
morning prayer were jostled in mid-air by the blare of 
hunters’ horns. Stamping iron-shod hoofs and the 
baying of deep-voiced hounds broke the stillness of the 
cloister, and threescore merry voices laughed out of 
memory the Benedictine vow of silence. 

Voices and horns made a joyous uproar when the 
King led forth his lady and her fair following; and he 
smiled with pleasure at the welcome and the pictur- 
esque beauty of the gay throng between the gray old 
walls. 

“ Now how could I come upon a better sight if 
I were the King of a hundred islands? ” he demanded 
of Elfgiva. 

But he did not wait for her answer; instead, he 
stepped forward as though to avoid it and put a ques- 
tion to one of his huntsmen. And his wife turned and 
spoke sharply to the blond maiden behind her, whose 
more than usual fairness had given her the name of Can- 
dida, or “ the white one.” 

“Where is Randalin? I sent the garments to. her 
an hour ago. She stands in need of a taste of Teboen’s 
rod to teach her promptness.” 

Little Dearwyn, watching the doorway with flutter- 
ing color, cried out eagerly, “ Here she is, lady ! ” 

There she was, in truth, standing on the threshold 
with crimson cheeks and flashing eyes. At the sight 
of her every huntsman uttered a whistle of amazement, 
then settled into an admiring stare ; and Canute, glanc- 
ing over his shoulder, laughed outright. 

224 


A ROYAL RECKONING 


“ What ! ” he said. “ Have you tired of woman’s 
clothes already?” 

For, once more, Frode’s daughter was attired in a 
man’s short tunic and long silken hose. It was a suit 
much richer than the old one, since silver embroidery 
banded the blue, and precious furs lined the cloak; but 
that fact was evidently of little comfort to her, as her 
eyes were full of angry tears, and she deigned the King 
no answer whatever. 

“ I am obliged to pay dearly for your amusement, 
lady,” she said bitterly. 

Elfgiva chimed her bell-like laughter. “ I will not 
deny that you pay liberally for my trouble, sweet. Does 
it not add spice to her stories, maidens, to see her hab- 
ited thus? She looks like one of the fairy lords Teboen 
is wont to sing of.” 

“ She holds her head like Emma of Normandy,” 
the King said absently. 

In wide-eyed surprise, Elfgiva looked up at him. 
“ Ethelred’s widow? Never did I hear that you had 
seen her! Why has this been passed over in silence? 
I have abundance of questions to ask about her gar- 
ments and her appearance. When saw you her? And 
where? ” 

Canute stirred uneasily. “ It is not worth a hear- 
ing. I spoke but a few words with her, about ransoms, 
the time that I sat before London. And I remember only 
that her bearing was noble and her countenance most 
handsome, such as I had never seen before, nor did I 
think that there could be any woman so queenlike.” 

*5 225 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Because he did not choose to say more, or because some 
wrinkle in Elfgiva’s satin brow warned him off, he 
turned hastily to another topic. “ Foolishly do we 
linger, when we have none too much time to get to 
covert. Do you still want your way about accompany- 
ing us? I have warned you that a boar hunt is little 
like hawking; nor do Northmen stand in one spot and 
wait for game to come to them.” 

“ I hold to it with both hands,” the lady returned 
with a gayety which had in it a touch of defiance. “ Nor 
will I consent to do anything except that alone. We 
will partake in the excitement of your sport, and each 
of these brave heroes of yours shall answer for the 
safety of one of us.” A gesture of her hand included 
Thorkel the Tall, the two Northern jarls, and the King’s 
foster-brother. 

“ And is it your belief that a man can at the same 
time chase a boar and talk fine words to a woman? ” 
Canute demanded between amusement and impatience. 
“ Call it a ride, if you will, but leave the boar out for 
reason’s sake, as he would leave us out ere we were 
so much as on his track.” 

She gave him a sidelong glimpse of her wonderful 
eyes, and drooped her head like a lily grown heavy 
on its stem. “ Would that be so great a misfortune 
then?” she murmured. “Do you think it unpleasant 
to be passing your time at my side? ” 

Smiling, he watched the play of her long silken 
lashes, yet shook his head. “ Nay, when I hunt, I 
hunt,” he said. “ I would have idled in your bower if 

226 


A ROYAL RECKONING 


you had chosen it, but you urged me to this, and now 
if it happens that you cannot keep up, you must bear 
your deed.’ , 

As one casts aside an ill-fitting glove, she threw 
aside her pouts, looking up at him with a flash of dainty 
mimicry. “Hear the fiery Thor! Take notice that I 
shall bear all down before me like a man mowing ripe 
corn. You cannot guess how much warlikeness I have 
caught from my Valkyria. ,, She glanced back where 
the girl in the short tunic stood drawing on her gloves, 
a picture of stormy beauty. 

Amused, the King’s eyes followed hers, then 
lighted with sudden purpose. “ As you will,” he 
laughed, “ and I will give your Valkyria a steed that 
shall match her appearance.” Advancing again, he 
spoke to a groom; and the signal set the whole party 
in motion. 

Randalin heard his words, but at the moment she 
was too deep in angry embarrassment to heed them. 
It seemed to her that every eye in the throng was 
fastened upon her as she walked forward, that every 
mouth buzzed comment behind her. It was not until 
she was in the saddle that his intention reached her 
understanding. 

The powerful black charger, which a groom led 
toward her, had been pawing and arching his glossy 
neck impatiently since the first horn set his blood-drops 
dancing; at the touch of her foot upon the stirrup, he 
snorted satisfaction through his wide-flaring nostrils 
and would have leaped forward like a stone from a 

227 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


sling, if the man had not hung himself upon the bit. 
The girl awoke to surprise as she barely managed to 
reach her seat by the most agile of springs. 

“ This is not the horse I ride, Dudda ! He must 
belong to one of the nobles.” 

“ He is — the horse — that King Canute said — 
you should take,” the man panted, as he struggled to 
keep his footing. “ He said to fetch — Praise Odin ! ” 
For at that moment, Canute’s silver horn gave the 
signal, and he was free to leap aside. I 

Randalin’s trained hand upon the reins was as firm 
as it was light, and her trained eye was keenly alert 
to every motion of the black ears, but in her brain all 
was whirling confusion, — and no longer any thought 
of her tunic. What was the King’s purpose in making 
this change? Certainly he was in no mood to honor 
her, — what could he have in his mind? While her 
tongue answered mechanically to Ulf Jarl’s observa- 
tions concerning the weather and the fair farmland 
they were riding through, her eyes were furtively ex- 
amining her companions’ steeds. No fiery ambitions 
disturbed their easy gait, spirited though they were. 
Indeed, Elfgiva, looking back at this moment, singled 
her out with a rippling laugh. 

“ By the blessed Ethelberga, you have a horse in 
all respects befitting your spirit, my shield-maiden! I 
hope it is not the King’s intention to punish you by 
frightening you.” 

Could it be possible that he should stoop to so un- 
worthy an action, the girl asked herself? And yet it 

228 


A ROYAL RECKONING 


was as understandable as any of his behavior during the 
last fortnight. Suddenly it seemed that a hand had 
awakened the Viking blood which slumbered in her 
veins; it fired her cheeks and flashed from under her 
lashes. She answered clearly, “ I hope it is not, lady, 

— for he would experience disappointment.” 

From all sides laughter went up; but there was 
no time for more, for now a hunter — one of the men 
who had brought news of the lair — galloped up, dust- 
choked and breathless. 

“ He has broken cover, King ! ” he gasped. “ He is 
moving windward — loose the hounds — or — you will 

— miss him — ” 

Canute’s horn was at his lips before the last broken 
phrase was out. “ Forward ! ” he shouted with a blast. 
“ The hounds, and forward ! ” A whirlwind seemed 
to strike the ambling train and sweep them over the 
ground like autumn leaves. 

Over stubble fields and leaf-carpeted lanes, with 
half frightened smiles upon their parted lips, Elfgiva 
and her fair ones kept up bravely ; then across a stream 
into a thicket, over hollows and fallen logs, under low- 
hanging boughs, through brush and brier and bramble, 

— leaping, dodging, tearing, crashing. Leonorine the 
Timid uttered a cry, as her horse slid down a bank with 
his feet bunched under him; and the Lady Elfgiva 
dropped her reins to press her hand where a thorn had 
scratched her cheek. 

“Stop!” she commanded. “Stop! We will turn 
back and wait — until he strikes across a field.” 


229 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


As well have tried to call off the hounds after they 
had caught the scent and doubled themselves over the 
trail ! It is unlikely that any man so much as heard her. 
For one flash of time she beheld them seesawing in the 
air before her, as their horses rose over the brush ; then 
there was nothing but the distant crashing of dry timber 
and the echo of Canute’s jubilant horn. 

“ And the Valkyria has gone also! ” the lady ejacu- 
lated, when her injured gaze was able to come suffi- 
ciently to earth. 

And so the Valkyria had, though with as little of 
free will as on that day when her runaway steed 
carried her out of the press of the fleeing army. At 
the first call of the horn, Black Ymer had taken the 
bronze bit between his teeth and followed, and his 
rider’s one concern in life became — not the guiding of 
him — but the staying on. Before they left the first 
thicket her mantle was torn from her shoulders, and 
she was lying along his neck, now on this side, now on 
that, to escape the whipping twigs that lashed at her, 
threatening to cut out her eyes. From the thicket out 
into the open, where it seemed as if the wind that 
rushed against her would blow not only the clothes 
from her body but the flesh from her bones ! 

Far ahead, where the little valley ended and the 
wood began again, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the 
boar as it burst covert with the yelping pack at its heels 
and was for one instant revealed, snarling, bare-tusked, 
and flecked with bloody foam. Then it dived again 
under cover and was gone in a new direction. Canute’s 

230 


A ROYAL RECKONING 


horn sounded a recall, and one by one the hunters 
checked their onward rush and wheeled. 

Black Ymer’s rider also tried to obey, but all the 
strength of her body was not enough to sway him by 
a hair’s breadth. On he shot into the thicket. 

“ He will have enough sense to stop when he finds 
out that he is alone,” was her despairing thought. 

But he continued to forge ahead like a race horse, 
— in uneven leaps as though some sound from behind 
were urging him on. Suddenly, through the roaring of 
her ears, it broke upon her that he was not alone, that 
at least one horse was following. Its approaching tread 
was like thunder in the stillness. If it could but get 
ahead of her, all would be well. Her heart beat hope- 
fully as the jar sounded nearer and nearer. When the 
snorting nostrils seemed at the Black One’s very flank, 
at the risk of her neck she turned her head. 

Looking, she understood why a steed had been 
given her which should carry her out of Elfgiva’s reach, 
for the horseman who was even now stretching his 
gauntleted hand toward her rein was the King himself. 
No one followed, and the forest around them was silent 
as a vault. At last, he was free to speak his mind. 

Under the drag of his hand, the horse came slowly 
to a halt and stood panting and trembling in the middle 
of a little dell. For a while, she could do no more than 
cling to the saddle-bow, sick with dizziness. 

Still holding her rein, her royal guardian sat re- 
garding her critically. “ Now it seems to me that your 
boasting is less than before,” he said. “ And you were 

231 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


mistaken in supposing that I would have given this 
animal to you if I had not known you could ride him.” 
When she made no reply, he shook the rein impatiently. 
“ Is it still the horse that makes you heavy in your 
breathing? Or perhaps you scarcely dare to face my 
justice? I warn you that I shall not take it well if you 
begin to weep.” 

A spark was drawn out of her by that. With an 
effort, she raised her head and shot him a glance from 
bright angry eyes. “No such intention have I, Lord 
King. Certainly I do not fear your justice. Why 
should I? ” 

“ Since I have little time to spend upon your freaks, 
I will tell you why,” he said sternly. “ Because you 
have betrayed one of my people for the sake of an 
Englishman.” 

With surprise, her glance wavered. “ I did not 
know you knew that,” she said slowly. But, as he 
expected her to droop, she bristled instead. “ Nor was 
it to be expected, Lord King, that you would be the one 
to blame me for using craft.” 

His eyes kindled ; if she had stopped there it might 
have gone hard with her, but she spoke on swiftly, 
her head indignantly erect. “ If Rothgar Lodbroksson 
thinks he should have indemnity because he was too 
stupid to see through a trick, let him have Avalcomb, 
when you get it back from the English, and feel that 
he has got more than he deserves ; but your anger — ” 
she broke off abruptly and sat with her lips pressed 
tight as though keeping back a sob. “ In the beginning, 

232 


A ROYAL RECKONING 


I got great kindness at your hands, Lord King,” she 
said at last, “ and your anger — hurts me ! ” 

On the point of softening, the King’s face hardened, 
and he averted his head. “ You value my favor rather 
late in the day, Frode’s daughter. It would have been 
better if you had shown honor to it when you came in 
to me at Scoerstan, by giving me truth in return for 
friendship.” 

If she had laughed as though recalling the jest in 
that scene, it is possible that he would have struck her 
with his glove. It was fortunate that her sense of 
humor was no more than a bubble on the foam of her 
high spirits. Her eyes were dark with earnestness as 
they sought his. 

“Lord King, I was hindered by necessity. Your 
camp — was it a place for women? And did not your 
own mouth tell me that Randalin, Frode’s daughter, 
should wed the son of Lodbrok if she were alive? ” 

He struck his knee a ringing slap. “ I confess that 
it is not easy to be a match for you ! But I can tell you 
one thing which you will not be able to explain, as 
heretofore, — and it is a thing which has made me 
get bitterest against you. If you had kept your con- 
fidence from all it might have passed for discreetness, 
but that you should keep it from me to give it to an 
Englishman — ” 

“ But I did not give it to the Englishman,” she 
interrupted. 

For an instant he stared at her; directly after 
he burst into a loud laugh. “ Now that is the best 

233 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


thing that has occurred yet! Where you cannot crawl 
through, you break through ! ” He laughed again, and 
was opening his mouth to repeat some of the suspicions 
he had shared with Rothgar when something about her 
stopped him, — whether it was the way she bore her 
head or something in her deep eyes. Dropping his 
derision, he spoke bluntly : “ What reason in the world 
could cause you to behave thus if it is not that he is 
your lover? ” 

The color gathered and spread over her face in 
maiden shame, until her tunic became the crudest of 
mockeries. 

“ Short is the reason to tell, Lord King,” she said, 
“ it is because I love him.” As he sat regarding her, 
she put out her hand and played with a tendril of wild 
grapevine that hung from the tree beside her, her eyes 
following her fingers. “ I do not know why I should 
be ashamed of the state of my feelings. I should not 
be able to stand alive before you if he had not been a 
better lord to me than you are to English captives; 
and he is more gentle and high-minded than any man 
I ever heard sung of. Sometimes I think I should have 
more to be ashamed of if I did not feel love toward 
him.” A little defiantly, she raised her eyes to his, 
only to drop them back to the spray. “ But he does 
not love me. He knows me only as the boy he was 
kind to. I have given him the high-seat in my heart, 
but I sit only within the door of his.” 

The forest seemed very still when she had done, — 
the only sound the clanking of the bits as the horses 

234 


A ROYAL RECKONING 


cropped the withered grass. Then suddenly the King 
gathered up his lines with a jerk. 

" I cannot believe it,” he said harshly. “ You are 
all alike, you women, with your cat-like purrings and 
tricksy eyes that surpass most other things in deceit. 
I do not deny both that you know well how to feign 
and that I would like to believe you, but you must prove 
it first before I do.” 

“How can I do that, lord?” she said helplessly; 
but shrank, the next moment, as she saw that already 
he had a plan in his mind. 

Moving his horse a step nearer, he bent toward 
her triumphantly. “ I will send for the Englishman, 
in your name — or the name you wore — and you 
shall meet him in my presence, and I shall be able to 
tell from his manner whether or not you have spoken 
truthfully.” 

Send for him! At the very thought her face was 
ecstatic with happiness. Then she clasped her hands 
in dismay. “ But not if I must continue in these gar- 
ments, lord! You can decide over my fate, but I will 
never face him again in anything but woman’s weeds.” 

The King frowned. “ Strangely do you speak ; 
as if I did not know what is befitting a Danish woman 
that I would allow one who is noble-born in all her 
kindred to be treated disgracefully after I had taken 
her into my wardership ! ” 

A while longer he sat there, watching her changeful 
face with its lovely mouth and the eyes that some 
trick of light and shade had deepened to the purple of 

235 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


an iris petal’s markings ; and the sight seemed to gentle 
his mood. 

“ I should like to reconcile myself to you,” he said 
slowly. “ Since first you came before me and showed 
by your entreaty that you thought me something be- 
sides an animal, I have felt friendliness toward you. 
And I should like to believe that some woman loves 
some man as you say you love this Englishman.” Out 
of the very wishfulness of his voice, a terrible menace 
spoke : “ I should like it so much that I shall neither 
spare you in word nor deed if you have deceived me ! ” 
Then once more his manner softened. “Yet my mind 
feels a kind of faith toward you. I shall try you, to 
make sure, but until you have proved that you are un- 
worthy of it, I will not keep you out of my friendship.” 
Drawing off his glove, he stretched forth his hand. 
“ You may find that a man’s harshness is little worse 
than a woman’s guile,” he said bitterly. 

Dimly guessing what was in his mind, she dared 
not trust herself to words but told her gratitude with 
her eyes, as she returned his clasp. Then he sent her 
back by the one semblance of a path which ran through 
the forest, and himself rode on to his hunters. 


236 


CHAPTER XXI 


WITH THE JOTUN AS CHAMBERLAIN 

All doorways, 

Before going forward, 

Should be looked to ; 

For difficult it is to know 
Where foes may sit 
Within a dwelling. 

HAVAMAL. 

NCE more, Lord Sebert, be 
exhorted to turn back,” old 
Morcard spurred forward to 
offer a last remonstrance as 
the city gates yawned before 
them. “ Even if the mes- 
sage be genuine, you are 
putting your life in peril. If 
men speak rightly, Glouces- 
ter Town is no better than 
a camp of carousing Danes. Is it likely that they care 
enough about this peace to stick at so small a thing as 
man-slaying? ” 

The Etheling replied without slackening his pace: 
“ I do not think they are liable to molest a peaceful 
traveller. I will take care that I upheave no strife, and 
I will make all my inquiries of the monks.’’ 

237 




THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Go a little more slowly, lord, and consider the 
other side of it,” the old cniht entreated. “ Suppose the 
message is false, — the black tress around it proves 
nothing. Suppose the son of Lodbrok has spread a net 
for you? ” 

“ Then should I keep on my way still more lustily,” 
the Lord of Ivarsdale answered, “ for his making use 
of the boy’s name to entice me would show that he had 
discovered our friendship, in which case the youngling 
would be suffering from his anger.” 

The old man plucked violently at his beard as the 
walls loomed clearer before them. “ Lord, you have 
already gone through some risk in leaving home. It 
is by no means impossible that Edmund will fall upon 
the Tower during your absence.” 

“ Edmund is too busy with big game at Oxford 
to have that trouble about such quarry as I,” the 
young man said lightly, “ and the Gainer is not likely 
to stir far from Edmund while land is being dis- 
tributed.” Then, sobering, he gave the other a grave 
glance over his shoulder. “ Even though the errand 
for danger could not be accomplished, how could 
I do less than undertake it? Did not the boy go 
through some risk for me when he betrayed his own 
countryman to get me out of a hard place? Had they 
guessed his treason, they would have torn him in pieces. 
I owe him a debt which it concerns my honor to 
pay. It lies not on your shoulders, however, — ” his 
gravity gave way to his gay smile, — “ if it is more 
pleasant for you not to enter the city, you may ride 
238 


WITH THE JOTUN AS CHAMBERLAIN 

back to the hostelry we passed, and await me in its 
shelter. ,, 

The old cniht’s courage was too well approved to 
require any defence. Contenting himself with an indig- 
nant grunt, he reined back to his place at the head of 
the dozen armed servants who formed the Etheling’s 
safeguard, and the young lord galloped on between the 
bare fields, humming absently under his breath. 

“ Poor bantling ! ” he was thinking compassion- 
ately. “ I shall be right glad to get sight of him again. 
I hope he will not betray himself in his joy when he 
sees me. Anything like showing that one is fond of him 
is apt to turn him a little soft.” 

None of these undercurrents was visible in his 
face however, when, having left his escort in one of the 
outer courts, he stood at last in the parlor of the Abbey 
guest-house. 

“ I am a traveller, reverend brother, journeying 
from London to Worcester,” he said with grave courtesy 
to the gaunt black-robed monk who admitted him. “And 
my errand hither is to ask refreshment for myself and 
my men, as we have been in the saddle since cockcrow.” 

“ The brother whose duty it is to attend upon trav- 
ellers is at this hour in the Chapter House, with the 
rest of the household,” the monk made answer. “ When 
he comes forth, I will acquaint him with your needs. 
Until then, bide here, and I will bring you a morsel to 
stay your stomach.” 

Sebert smiled his satisfaction as the sandals pat- 
tered away. He had foreseen this interval of waiting, 

239 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


— indeed, he had timed his arrival to gain it, — and it 
was his design to put it to good use. While he swal- 
lowed what he wanted of the wafers and wine which 
were brought him, he took measure of the reverend 
servitor, with the result that, as he set down the goblet, 
he ventured a question. 

“ From the numbers and heaps of attendants I saw 
in the outer courts, holy brother, it appears that this 
season of peace has in no way lessened the tax on your 
generosity. Is rumor right in declaring the Danish 
King to be one of the guests of your bounty? ” 

Either it was the agreeable presence of the 
young noble which relaxed the Benedictine’s austerity, 
or else the fact that Sebert had left half his wine 
in his cup. The holy man answered with unwonted 
readiness. 

“ Rumor, which is the mother of lies, has given 
birth to one truth, noble stranger. The King whom a 
chastening Providence has set over the northern half 
of the Island, has been our guest for the space of four 
weeks, — together with the gold-bought English woman 
who is known as his ‘ Danish wife.’ ” The monk’s 
watery eyes were rolled upward in pious disapproval, 
before he turned them earthward with a sigh of resig- 
nation. “ Nevertheless, it is the will of Heaven, — and 
he is very open-handed with lands and gold when his 
meals please him.” He cast a thirsty glance toward 
the half-filled goblet which Sebert was absently finger- 
ing. “ If you have eagerness for a sight of him, you 
have but to walk through the galleries until you come 

240 


WITH THE JOTUN AS CHAMBERLAIN 

to the garden in which he is fleeting his time with his 
women.” 

“Now I think I should like to take a look at him 
while I am waiting,” the Etheling assented, rising 
gravely. “ Should Edmund be the first to pay the debt 
of nature, which God avert! the Dane will become my 
King also. Is it this door that commands the cloister? ” 

“ The door on your left,” the monk corrected ; and 
shuffled away lest some envious chance should snatch 
the cup from him before his thirsty throat could close 
on the sweet remnant. 

At the moment that he was making sure of his 
booty in the safe darkness of a passage, the Lord of 
Ivarsdale was pursuing his object along the chill en- 
closure of the gallery. The November sunlight that, un- 
softened by any filter of rich-tinted glass, fell coldly upon 
the worn stone, showed the carrels beneath the windows 
to be one and all deserted by their monkish occupants, 
and he strode along unhampered by curious eye or ear. 

“ After all this luck,” he congratulated himself, “ it 
will go hard with me if I do not either stumble on the 
youngling himself, or someone who can give me news 
of him.” 

He had no more than thought it, when the sound 
reached him of a door closing somewhere along the 
next side of the square, followed by the clank of spurred 
feet coming heavily toward him. As they drew nearer, 
the rattle of a sword also became audible. Lifting his 
eyebrows dubiously, the Etheling grasped his own 
weapon beneath his cloak. 

16 241 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


When the feet had brought their owner around the 
corner into sight, he did not feel that his motion had 
been a mistaken one, for the man who was advancing 
was Rothgar Lodbroksson. It flashed through Sebert’s 
mind that the old cniht’s forebodings had not been 
without cause, and that Ivarsdale was in danger of 
changing masters by a process much quicker than a 
month’s siege. He stared in amazement when the Dane, 
instead of flashing out his blade, stopped short with a 
burst of jeering laughter. 

“ Here is the Englishman arrived, and he looks 
small enough now ! ” he cried in his thunderous voice. 
“ Has it happened that I am to be the bower-thane who 
is to fetch you in ! ” 

Sebert’s grasp tightened around his hilt. Appar- 
ently the son of Lodbrok was expecting him! Yet even 
on a forlorn hope, he deemed it wise not to commit him- 
self. He said with what haughtiness he could muster, 
“ What should a plain traveller want with a bower- 
thane, Danishman? I stand in more need of the cellarer 
who is to provide me with a meal.” 

Another jeering outburst interrupted him. “ Now 
I say nothing against it if you declare yourself looking 
for sweetmeats! Well, I will be the cellarer, and lead 
you to them.” 

“ I do not understand you,” Sebert said slowly, and 
quite truthfully. 

The Dane grinned at him. “ I mean that I will 
fetch you in to the one who sent you the summons.” 

“ The one who sent you the summons? ” Certainly 
242 


WITH THE JOTUN AS CHAMBERLAIN 

that sounded as though he were using the words to 
conceal a name. Neither the Etheling’s patience nor his 
temper was long enough to reach below the knee. He 
made a swift gesture of throwing aside all reserve. 
“ Enough of mystery, Danishman ! If the message 
which I have received was not sent by Fridtjof 
Frodesson, it was sent by you. Be honest enough to 
admit it and say plainly what your intention is toward 
me. 

“ Fridtjof Frodesson,” the Jotun mocked, and his 
fiery eyes probed the Englishman like knives. “ Now 
since honesty is to your wish, I will go so far as to 
confess that the word came neither from Frode’s son 
nor from me.” 

Sebert’s foot rang upon the ground. “ Say then 
that the Devil sent it, and a truce to this juggling! 
Since you know that I am the boy’s friend, you under- 
stand that any harm he has suffered is a harm to me, 
and that my sword is equally ready to avenge it.” 

Much to his surprise, the Dane accorded this chal- 
lenge no notice whatever. He stood studying the Lord 
of Ivarsdale with eyes in which malicious amusement 
was growing into open mirth. It came out in another 
laugh. 

“ Now it would be more unlikely than the wonder 
which has occurred, yet I begin to believe you! I my- 
self will guide you to your Fridtjof, only for the pleasure 
of watching your face. The Fates are no such step- 
mothers after all ! ” He turned in the direction from 
which he had come and made the other a sign. “ This 

243 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


way, — if you dare to follow. I am not afraid to go 
first, so you need give no thought of the chances of steel 
between your ribs.” 

The Etheling took his hand off his weapon with a 
twinge of shame ; but he was not without misgivings as 
he strode along at Rothgar’s heels. Unless the young- 
ling had made a decided change for the worse, what sat- 
isfaction could the Jotun expect to get from witnessing 
their meeting? Before his mind, there rose again the 
tear-stained boyish face which had bidden him farewell 
that night at the postern, and his pulses throbbed with 
a fierce pity. 

“ He took himself from the one person who was 
dear to him, poor little cub,” he murmured. “ If they 
have maimed him, I swear I will tuck him under my 
arm and cut my way out though there be a wall of the 
brutes around him.” 

His musings came to an end, as the man preceding 
him stopped suddenly where one of the milky panes 
broken from the cloister window gave a view of the 
cloister garden. With the cold November sunshine a 
hum of voices was coming in, now brightened by peals 
of laughter, again blurred by the thud of falling quoits. 
Over the Jotun’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of gor- 
geous nobles and fair-haired women scattered in graceful 
groups about a sunny old garden, green in the very face 
of winter, thanks to the protecting shelter of the gray 
walls. 

Only a glimpse, — for even as he looked, Roth- 
gar caught his cloak and pulled him ahead. “ Yonder 

244 


WITH THE JOTUN AS CHAMBERLAIN 

door is a better place to look through; already it is 
open, and the shadow inside is thick enough to hide 
us.” 

Pricked as he was by a dozen spurs, Sebert offered 
no resistance. In a moment, they stood just out of 
reach of the square of light which fell through the open 
doorway. Framed in carved stone, the quaint old gar- 
den with its gravelled paths, its weedless turfs and its 
background of ivy-hung walls, lay before them like a 
picture. 

In the longest of the oval spaces, a group of maidens 
and warriors were gathered to watch a wonderful flower- 
faced woman play at quoits under the instruction of 
a noble tutor. At every one of her graceful blunders 
her laughter rang out in fairy music, which was sweetly 
echoed by her maids; but the men appeared to see 
nothing but her beauty as she poised herself lightly 
before them like some shining azure bird on tiptoe for 
flight. Sebert paid her the tribute of a quickly drawn 
breath, even as he took his eyes from her to scan the 
butterfly pages who ran to and fro, recovering the gilded 
rings. Yellow hair and red hair and brown hair curled 
on their gaudy shoulders, but no black. In all the pic- 
ture there was but one figure crowned with such raven 
locks as had distinguished Fridtjof the Bold, and that 
figure belonged to a girl standing directly opposite by 
the mossy curb of the old well, which, guarded by a 
circle of carefully tended trees, rose like an altar in the 
centre of the inclosure. Four of the red-cloaked Danish 
nobles stood about her, — and one of them wore a 

245 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


golden circlet upon the gold of his hair, — but the 
Etheling’s eyes passed them almost unheedingly to 
dwell upon the black-tressed maiden. 

Something about her, while it was entirely strange, 
was yet so absurdly familiar. She was some very high- 
born lady, there could be no doubt of that, for the deli- 
cate fabric of her trailing kirtle was flowered with gold, 
and gold and coral were twined in the dusky softness 
of her hair and hung around her neck in a costly chain, 
which the King was fingering idly as he talked with her. 
Now she looked up to answer the jesting words, and 
the man in the passage saw her smile and shake back 
her clustering curls with a gesture so familiar ... so 
familiar . . . 

Rothgar's gloating eyes detected light breaking in 
his victim's face, incredulity, amazement, consternation ; 
and he began to jeer under his breath. “ A great joy 
is this that you see your Fridtjof again ! Why do you 
not go in boldly and rescue him? Does he not look to 
be in need of your help?" To stifle his laughter, he 
muffled his head in his cloak and leaned, shaking, 
against the wall. 

Flushing a deeper and deeper red, the Lord of Ivars- 
dale stared at the smiling maiden. Just so, a hundred 
times, she had lifted her sparkling face toward him, and 
he — fool that he was! — where had been his eyes? 
Perhaps it is not strange that after the surprise had 
faded from his look, the first feeling to show was bitter- 
est mortification. Turning, he forced a laugh between 
his teeth. 


246 





“ The man in the passage saw her smile.” 


































































































WITH THE JOTUN AS CHAMBERLAIN 

“ I do not deny you the right to be amused. You 
speak truly that she needs no help from me. I will 
hinder you no longer.” 

Rothgar leaped forward to bar the passage, and the 
mantle that fell from his face showed no laughter of 
mouth or eyes. “ I have not as yet spoken harm, but 
it is not sure that I do not mean it,” he said. “ If 
you take it in this manner to see how you have been 
tricked, you may suppose how well I like it to re- 
member the lies she fed to me, who would have staked 
my life upon her truthfulness. It is not allowed me 
to take revenge on her for her treachery, but I think 
I need not spare you, as you got the profit of her 
falseness.” 

The Etheling’s sword was out while the other was 
still speaking. “ By Saint Mary, do you imagine that 
I am fearful of you? Never in my life was I more thirsty 
for fighting.” 

But Rothgar pushed the blade aside with his naked 
palm. “ Not here, where she could come between. 
Besides, the King wants a thrust at you first. Nor have 
you yet greeted Randalin, Frode’s daughter.” His 
hand, which was itching for a sword, began to tear the 
fur from his cloak, and his lips curved in a grin that had 
in it little of mirth. “ Certainly you would not rob the 
maiden of the pleasure of seeing the one she has taken 
so much trouble for? ” he mocked. 

On the verge of an angry retort, Sebert paused to 
regard him, a suspicion darting spark-like through his 
mind. Did the Jotun’s words smack of jealousy? It 

247 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 

was true that it needed not that to explain their bitter- 
ness, and yet — What more natural than that the 
King’s foster-brother should love the King’s ward? If 
it was so, it was small wonder the girl had said that he 
would slay her when he discovered her unfaithfulness. 
Unfaithfulness! Sebert started. Had she not in that 
very word acknowledged a bond? Not only did he 
love her, but she must have returned his affections. 
The spark of suspicion flared into a flame. That would 
solve so many riddles. For one, her presence in the 
Danish camp, — for surely, as a chieftain’s daughter, 
she would have been sent on to the care of the Lady 
of Northampton! Was it not thoroughly in accordance 
with her elfish wildness to have chosen man’s attire and 
the roughness of camp-life in order to remain near her 
lover? Her lover! The young noble’s lips curled as he 
glanced at the warrior beside him, at the coarse face 
under the unkempt locks, at the huge body in its trap- 
pings of stained gaudiness. Involuntarily, he looked 
again at the group by the well. She was very winsome 
in her smiling, and the graceful lines of her trailing 
robes, their delicacy and soft richness, threw about her 
all the glamour of rank and state. He clenched his hands 
at the thought of such treasures thrown down for brutal 
feet to trample on; and his heart grew hot with anger 
against her, anger and scorn that were almost loathing, 
that she who looked so fine should be so poor, so — 
But he did not finish his thought, for on its heels came 
another, a recollection that stayed his anger and changed 
his scorn to compunction. However dear Rothgar might 

248 


WITH THE JOTUN AS CHAMBERLAIN 

have been to her, he could be dear no longer, or she 
would never have betrayed his trust and dared his hate 
to save Ivarsdale Tower — and its master. Sebert 
winced and put up his hand to shut out the vision as he 
realized at whose feet her heart lay now, like a pitiful 
bruised flower. 

Meanwhile, the son of Lodbrok had been drawing 
heavily on his scant stock of patience. Suddenly, he 
ran out completely. Seizing the Etheling by the shoul- 
ders, before he could raise finger in resistance, he thrust 
him through the open doorway into the garden, a target 
for every startled glance. After which, he himself 
stalked grimly on to await him at the city gate. 


249 


CHAPTER XXII 


HOW THE LORD OF IVARSDALE PAID HIS DEBT 


To his friend 
A man should be a friend, 

And gifts with gifts requite. 

HAVAMAL. 



MOMENT, it was to Ran- 
dalin, Frode’s daughter, as 
if the heavens had let fall 
. star at her feet. Then her 
yonder changed to exulta- 
ion, as she realized that it 
vas not chance but because 
f her bidding that the man 
he loved stood before her. 
)nly because she had asked 
it, he had come through pitfalls and death-traps, and 
now faced, alone, the gathered might of his foes. Glory- 
ing in his deed, she stood shining sun-like upon him 
until the red cloaks of the advancing warriors came 
between like scarlet clouds. 

“Who are you? ” “ What is your errand? ” “How 
came you here? ” she heard them demand. And, after 
a pause, in disbelieving chorus, “ Rothgar Lodbroks- 
son!” “Does that sound likely ?” “Where is he, 
then?” “You are trying to lie out of something — ” 

250 



HOW LORD OF IVARSDALE PAID HIS DEBT 


“You are an English spy!” “Seize him!” “Bind 
him!” 

The scarlet cloaks drew together into a swaying 
mass ; a dozen blades glittered in the sun. With a gasp, 
she came out of her trance to catch at the royal mantle. 
“ Lord King, you promised to give him safety ! ” 
The seriousness which had darkened Canute’s face 
at the intrusion vanished off it as breath-mist off a 
mirror. “Is it only your Englishman?” he asked, be- 
tween a laugh and a frown. 

She grudged the time the words took. “ Yes, yes! 
Pray be as quick as you can ! ” 

He did not seem bitten by her haste, but he took 
a step forward, clanging his gold-bound scabbard 
against the stone well-curbing to make himself heard. 
“ Unhand the Lord of Ivarsdale, my chiefs,” he ordered. 
As they sent him incredulous glances over their shoul- 
ders, he further explained his will by a gesture ; and they 
fell away, murmuring, the swords gliding like bright 
serpents back to their holes. Then he made another 
sign, this time to the stranger. “ We will accept your 
greeting now, Englishman, even though you have been 
hindered in the giving of it,” he said politely. 

Standing there, watching the young noble advance, 
it seemed to Randalin that there was not room between 
her heart-beats for her breathing. How soon would 
he look up and know her? How would his face change 
when he did? His color now was a match for the war- 
riors’ cloaks, and there was none of his usual ease in his 
manner when at last he bowed before the King. Pres- 

251 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


ently it occurred to her to suspect that he had already 
recognized her, — perhaps from the doorway, — and in 
her rush of relief at the idea of the shock being over, 
she found even an impulse of playfulness. Borrowing 
one of Elfgiva’s graces, she swept back her rustling 
draperies in a ceremonious courtesy before him. 

Again he bent in his bow of stiff embarrassment; 
but he did not meet her glance even then, returning his 
gaze, soldier-like, to the King. Suppose he were going 
to treat her with the haughtiness she had seen him show 
Hildelitha or the old monk when they had displeased 
him ! At the mere thought of it, she shrank and dropped 
her eyes to the coral chain that she was twining between 
her fingers. 

The awkwardness of the pause seemed to afford 
Canute a kind of mischievous amusement, for all the 
courtesy in which he veiled it. His voice was almost 
too cheerful as he addressed the Etheling. “ Now as 
always it can be told about my men that they stretch 
out their hands to greet strangers,” he said, “ but I ask 
you not to judge all Danish hospitality from this recep- 
tion, Lord of Ivarsdale. Since Frode’s daughter has 
told me who you are, I take it for granted that they 
were wrong, and that you came here with no worse 
intention than to obey her invitation.” 

His glance sharpened a little as he pronounced 
those last words, and the girl’s hands clasped each other 
more tightly as she perceived the snare in the phrase. 
If the Etheling should answer unheedingly or obscurely, 
so that it should not be made quite clear to the King — 

252 


HOW LORD OF IVARSDALE PAID HIS DEBT 


But it appeared that the Etheling was equally 
anxious that Canute should not believe him the lover 
of Frode’s daughter. His reply was distinct to blunt- 
ness : “ Part of your guess is as wrong as part of it is 
right, King of the Danes. Certainly I came here with 
no thought of evil toward you, but neither had I any 
thought soever of the Lady Randalin, of whose exis- 
tence I was ignorant. I answered the call of Fridtjof 
Frodesson, to whom I owe and I pay all the service 
which lies in my power, — as it is likely you know.” 

Did his voice soften as he recalled his debt? Ran- 
dalin ventured to steal a glance at his face, — then her 
own clouded with puzzlement. No haughtiness was in 
it, but a kind of impatient pain, and now he winced 
under the smart and stirred restlessly in his place. The 
lightness of the King’s voice grated on her ear. 

“ Then I think you must have got surprised, if this 
is true, which seems impossible.” 

The Etheling answered almost impatiently, “ If 
your mind feels doubt of it, Lord Canute, you have but 
to ask your foster-brother, who conducted me hither.” 

A while longer, Canute’s keen eyes weighed him; 
then their sky was cleared of the last cloud. The best 
expression of which his brilliant face was capable was 
on it as he turned and held out his hand to the girl 
beside him. 

“ Shall we pledge our friendship anew, Frode’s 
daughter?” was all he said; but she knew from his 
look that he had taken her under his shield for all time 
to come; and it was something to know, now when Her 

253 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


world seemed falling about her. For an instant, as she 
yielded her trembling fingers to his palm, her groping 
spirit turned and clung to him, craving his sympathy. 

It seemed that he divined the appeal, for with the 
hand that pressed hers he drew her forward a step. 
“ Is it not your wish to speak to the Lord of Ivars- 
dale yourself and thank him for keeping his troth with 
Fridtjof? ” he said kindly; and without waiting for an 
answer, moved away and joined a group of those who 
had been his companions before the interruption. 

At last she stood face to face with the man she 
loved, face to face, and alone. And still he neither 
spoke to her nor looked at her ! So strange and terrible 
was it all that it gave her resolution to speak and end 
it. Her Viking blood could not color her cheeks, but 
her Viking courage found her a whisper in which to 
offer her plea for the “ sun-browned boy -bred wench.” 

“ Lord, it is difficult to know whether or not to 
expect your friendship, for — for I have heard what your 
mind feels toward most matters — and you see now 
what I have done — ” 

Did he wince again? She paused in astonishment. 
It could not be that he was surprised, — was it dis- 
pleasure? Her words came a little more swiftly, a 
tremor of passionate pleading thrilling through them. 

“You need not think that I did it willingly, lord. 
Very roughly has fortune handled me. The reason I 
first came into camp-life was that I trusted someone too 
much, knowing no more of the world than my father’s 
house. And after the bonds were laid on me, it was not 

254 


HOW LORD OF IVARSDALE PAID HIS DEBT 


easy to rule matters. The helplessness of a woman is 
before the eyes of all people — ” 

His words broke through hers : “No more, I beseech 
you ! ” His voice was broken and unsteady as she had 
never known it. “ Who am I that I should blame you? 
Do not think me so — so despisable! If unknowingly I 
have done you any wrong when I owe you — ” He 
paused and she guessed that it had swept over him afresh 
how much he did owe her. Perhaps also how much he 
had promised to pay? 

“ There will be no recompense that you can ask 
at my hands which I shall not be glad to give, ,, he had 
said ; and she had checked him, bidding him wait to see 
if he would have more than pity. If he should have 
no more! She dared not look at him but she felt that 
he opened his lips to speak, then turned away, stifling 
a groan. It seemed to her that her breath ceased while 
she waited, and her hands tightened on the coral chain so 
that suddenly it burst and scattered the beads like rosy 
symbols of her hopes. If he should have no more ! 

At last he turned and came a step nearer her, 
courtly and noble as he had always been. “ I owe to 
you everything I have, even life itself,” he said, “ and I 
offer them all in payment of the debt. May I ask the 
King to give you to me for my wife? ” 

In its infinite gentleness, his voice was almost ten- 
der. For as long as the space between one breath and 
the next, her spirit leaped up and stretched out its arms 
to its joy; but she stayed it on the threshold of utter- 
ance to look fearfully into his face, whose every shade 

2 55 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 

was open to her as the day. Looking into his eyes, she 
knew that it was no more than pity. He guessed that 
she loved him and he pitied her; but he could not 
forgive her unmaidenliness, he could not love her. 

Slowly and quite easily she felt her heart die in 
her breast, leaving only the shell, the husk, of what had 
been Randalin, Frode’s daughter. Her first thought 
was a vague wonder that after it she could breathe and 
move as if she were still alive. Her next, a piteous 
desire to escape from him while she had this strength, 
before the end should really come. Clutching the 
broken chain, she drew herself up bravely, her words 
coming in uneven breathfuls. 

“ I want not that recompense, lord. I want — 
nothing you have to give. Little shall you think of 
the debt, — or think that in helping you, I repaid you 
for your hospitality, your — ” 

Her voice broke as the memory of that time passed 
over her like bitter waters, and she was obliged to 
stand silent before him, steadying her lip with her teeth, 
until the waters had fallen. She had a faint conscious- 
ness that he was speaking to her, but she did not under- 
stand what he said, she did not care. Her only wish 
was for words that should send him away so that she 
might be free to sink down beside the old well and press 
her burning face against its smooth coldness and finish 
dying there. 

“ It was the King who sent for you, that he might 
know whether I had spoken the truth concerning my 
disguise — ” she said when at last her voice returned. 

256 


HOW LORD OF IVARSDALE PAID HIS DEBT 


“ Now, by coming, you have helped me against his 
anger, — let that settle all debt between us. I thank 
you much and — and I bid you farewell.’* Again 
Elfgiva’s schooling came to her mind and she swayed 
before him in a courtesy. She even bent her lips into 
a little smile so that he should not be sorry for her and 
stay to tell her so. She did not know that her cheeks 
were as white as her kerchief, that her eyes were dark 
wells of unshed tears. She knew only that at last he 
was bowing, he was turning, in a moment more he 
would be gone — 

But just short of that point he stopped, and all 
motion around her appeared to stop, as a noise down the 
corridor blotted out every sound in the garden, — the 
noise of a great body of people rousing the echoes with 
jubilant shouting. 

“ The King ! The King ! ” could be heard again and 
again, and after it a burst of deafening cheers that 
drowned the rest. 

Elfgiva dropped the gilded quoits to wring her 
hands. “ Is it the English, my lord?” she implored of 
Eric of Norway. “Is it the English attacking us? Shall 
we be killed?” 

“ Think you that Danes cheer like that when they 
are expecting death? ” the Norseman reassured her with 
a hearty laugh. “ It is good news, — great news since 
the whole mob has thought it safe to bring it. Hark! 
Can you hear what it is that they add after the King’s 
name? ” 

Listening, everyone stood motionless as the babel 

17 257 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


came nearer with a swiftness which spoke much for the 
speed of the shouters. Only Randalin’s little red shoe 
began to tap the earth impatiently. What did it matter 
what they said? 

“ Hail to Canute of Denmark ! ” “ Hail to the King 
of the Danes and — ” Again cheers drowned the rest. 

The pages, who had sped at the first alarm like a 
covey of gay birds, came panting back, tumbling over 
one another in their efforts to impart the news. 

“ A messenger! ” “ A messenger from Oxford — ” 
“ From Edric — ” “ Edmund is — ” “ — Edmund — ” 
“A messenger!” one cancelled another in the wild 
excitement. 

Elfgiva caught the nearest and shook him until 
his teeth chattered; and in the lull, the swelling shout 
reached them for the first time unbroken : “ Honor to 
the King! Hail to the King of the Danes and the 
Angles!” 

From the Lord of Ivarsdale came a cry, sharp as 
though a heart-string had snapped in its utterance, the 
tie that for generations had bound those of his blood to 
the house of Cerdic. 

“Edmund?” 

The mob of soldiers and servants that burst 
through the doorway answered his question with ex- 
ultant shouts : “ Edmund is dead ! Edmund is dead ! 
Long live Canute the King! King of the Danes and 
the Angles ! ” 

Unbidden, memory raised before Randalin a pic- 
ture of the English camp-fire in the glade, with the 

258 


HOW LORD OF IVARSDALE PAID HIS DEBT 


English King standing in its light and the hooded figure 
bending from the shadow behind him, its white taloned 
hand resting on his sleeve. An instant she shivered at 
it; then again her foot stirred with unendurable rest- 
lessness. If he was dead, he was dead, and there was 
no more to be said. Was the Etheling always going to 
stand as though he were turned to stone? Would he 
never — 

Ah, at last he was moving! As if the news had 
only just reached home to him, she saw him draw him- 
self together sharply and stride toward the door; and 
she watched feverishly to see if anyone would think to 
stop him. One group he passed — and another — and 
another — now he was on the threshold. Her pulses 
leaped as she recognized Rothgar, in the throng pouring 
into the garden with the messenger, but quieted again 
when she saw that the two passed shoulder to shoulder 
without a look, without a thought, for each other. Now 
he was out of sight. 

She let her suspended breath go from her in a 
long sigh. “ It is good that everyone is too excited to 
notice what I do,” she said to herself. And even as she 
said it she realized that her limbs were shaking under 
her, that she was sick unto faintness. “ I am going to 
finish dying now, and I welcome it,” she murmured. 
Staggering to a little bench under one of the old oaks, 
she sank down upon it and leaned her head against the 
tree trunk and waited. 


259 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A BLOOD-STAINED CROWN 


He is happy 

Who in himself possesses 
Fame and wit while living ; 

For bad counsels 
Have oft been received 
From another’s breast. 

HAVAMAL. 



AT A ! ” That was the pet 
name which Elfgiva had 
iven to her Danish atten- 
dant because it signified 
“ the lively one.” “Tata! 
I have looked everywhere 
you ! ” The pat of light 
feet, a swish of silken skirts, 
and Dearwyn had thrown 
herself upon the bench un- 
der the oak tree, her little dimpled face radiant. “ What 
are you doing here in this corner where you can see 
nothing? How! Are you not overcome with delight? 
Only think that Elfgiva will be a queen and we shall 
all go to London ! ” As the only adequate means of 
expression, she threw her arms around her friend in a 
rapturous embrace. 


260 




A BLOOD-STAINED CROWN 


Something in the touch of her soft body, the 
caress of her satin hands, was indefinably comfort- 
ing. Randalin’s arms closed about her and pressed 
her close, while the little gentlewoman chided her 
gayly. 

“ What is the matter with you that you are so silent 
as to your tongue, when you must needs be shouting 
in your heart? You are as bad as the King, who stands 
looking from one to another and speaks not a word. 
Does your coldness arise from dignity? Then let me 
lose all the state I have and be held for a farmer’s lass, 
for I am going to stand up here where I can see every- 
thing.” Disengaging herself gently, she climbed upon 
the bench as she chattered. “ The messenger had a 
leather bag around his neck which I think likely con- 
tains Edmund’s crown and — Ah, Tata, look! look! 
Thorkel is holding it up ! ” 

As cries of savage rejoicing mingled with the up- 
roar, Randalin found herself dragged up, whether she 
would or no, until she stood beside her companion, 
gazing over the heads of the shouting throng. 

Yes, it was Edmund’s crown. Again, a picture of 
the English camp-fire rose before her, and she shivered 
as she recognized the graceful pearled points she had 
last seen upon the Ironside’s stately head. Now 
Thorkel was setting them above the Danish circlet on 
Canute’s shining locks, while the shouts merged into 
a roar of acclamation. Like blowing flowers, the women 
bent before him, and the naked swords of his nobles 
made a glittering arch above him. 

261 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“But why does he look so strange?” Randalin 
said suddenly. 

And Dearwyn laid a finger on her lip. “ Hush ! 
At last he is going to speak.” 

For now it was plain that Canute’s attention was 
given neither to the nobles nor to the fluttering women. 
He was bending toward the messenger, holding him 
with his glance. “ Tell more news, messenger,” he was 
saying sternly. “ Tell about the cause of my royal 
brother’s death.” 

The messenger seemed to lose what little breath 
his ride on the shoulders of the crowd had left him. 
“ My errand extends no further,” he panted. “ It is 
likely that the Earl will send you more news — I am 
but the first — ” His breath gave out in an inarticulate 
gasp, and he began to back away. 

But the King moved after him. “ Stop — ” he 
commanded, — “ or it may be that I will cause you to 
remain quiet for the rest of time. You must know what 
separated his life from his body. Tell it.” 

Stammering with terror, the man fell upon his 
knees. “ Dispenser of treasures, how should I know? 
The babblings of the ignorant durst not be repeated. 
Many say that the Ironside was worn sick with 
fighting.” 

“ You lie ! ” Canute roared down upon him. “ You 
know they say that Edric murdered him.” 

At that, the poor fool seemed to cast to the 
winds his last shred of sense. “ They do say that 
the Earl poisoned him,” he blubbered. “ But none 

262 


A BLOOD-STAINED CROWN 

say that you bade him to do it. No one dares to say 
that.” 

“ How could they say that? ” Randalin cried in 
amazement, while the King drew back as though the 
grovelling figure at his feet were a dog that had bitten 
him. 

“ I bid him do it? ” he repeated. All at once his 
face was so terrible that the man began to crawl back- 
ward, screaming, even before Canute’s hand had reached 
his hilt. 

Before the blade could be drawn, Rothgar had 
stepped in front of his royal foster-brother with a savage 
sweep of his handless arm. “ Do not waste your point 
on the churl, King,” he said in his bull’s voice. “ If 
you want to play this game further, deal with me, — 
for I also believe that you bade the Gainer murder 
Edmund.” 

As though paralyzed by his amazement, Canute’s 
arm dropped by his side. “ You also believe it? ” 

Little Dearwyn hid her face on the Danish girl’s 
breast. “ Oh, Randalin, would he do such a deed? ” 
she gasped. “ The while that he seemed so kind and 
gentle with us ! Would he do such horrid wickedness? ” 

“No!” Randalin cried passionately. “No!” 

But even as she cried it, Thorkel the Tall dared to 
lean forward and give the royal shoulder a rallying slap. 
“ Amleth himself never played a game better,” he 
said ; “ but is it worth while to continue at it when no 
Englishmen are watching?” And his words seemed 
to open a door against which the others were crowding. 

263 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ King Canute, I willingly admit myself the block- 
head you called me ! ** Ulf Jarl hastened to declare in 
his good-natured roar. “ When I saw you take your 
point away from Edmund’s breast, that day, my heart 
got afraid that you were obliged to do it to save your- 
self. Even after I heard how you had made a bargain 
to inherit after each other, I never suspected what kind 
of a plan was in your mind.” 

And Eric of Norway smote his thigh with the 
half resentful laugh of a man who has been told the 
answer to a riddle which he has given up. “ I will 
confess that your wit surpasses mine in matters of 
cunning. I did suspect that you might think it unfeas- 
ible to kill him before the face of his army, but I had 
no idea that it would be possible to get the land from 
him both according to law and without further fighting 
or loss of men. On a lucky day is the King born who 
has a mind like this ! ” 

One after another, all the nobles echoed the senti- 
ment; until even the mob of soldiers found courage 
to voice their minds. 

“ His wit is made out of Sleipnir’s heels ! ” 
“ Skroppa herself could not be foreknowing about 
him ! ” “I am as glad now as I was disappointed 
when I saw him take his blade off the Ironside — ” 
“ When I saw that, I thought I would turn English — ” 
“They will try now to turn Danish.” “You speak 
well, for he will get great fame on account of his 
wisdom.” So they filled the air with marvelling 
admiration. 


264 


A BLOOD-STAINED CROWN 


Standing in silent listening, Canute’s gaze travelled 
from face to face until it came to the spot where 
Elfgiva fluttered among her women, holding her 
exquisite head as if it already wore a crown. An 
odd gleam flickered over his eyes, and he made a 
step toward her. “You!” he said. “What do you 
believe? ” 

Pealing her silvery laughter, she turned toward 
him, her eyes peeping at him like bright birds from 
under the eaves of her hood. “ Lord, I believe that I 
am afraid of you ! ” she coquetted. “ When I bethink 
me that all the time I have been chiding you for being 
unambitious for glory, you have had this in your mind ! 
I shall never presume to compass your moods again. 
Yes. Oh, yes! I shall see daggers in your smile and 
poison in your lightest word.” Laughing, she stooped 
and kissed his hand with the first semblance of respect 
which she had ever shown him. 

In the Danish girl’s embrace, Dearwyn shivered 
and nestled closer. “ Randalin, you hear her? She 
thinks he did it.” 

“ She is a foolish woman,” Randalin said impa- 
tiently, “ and if she do not take care, she will feel 
it for speaking so. See how his fingers tap his belt 
for all that his face is so still.” 

His face was curiously still as he regarded the 
beautiful Elfgiva, — and stilly curious, as though he 
were examining some familiar object in a new light. 
“ You believe then that I had him murdered? ” he 
asked. “ And you find pleasure in believing it? ” 

265 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Now it is not murder ! ” she protested. “ When 
a king kills — in war — ” 

“ But this is not war,” he said slowly. Lifting 
one of the jewelled braids from her shoulder, he played 
with it as he studied her. “ This is not war, for I had 
reconciled myself to him. I had plighted faith with 
Edmund Ethelredsson and vowed to avenge his death 
like a brother.” 

Her white forehead drew itself into a puzzled 
frown. “ But you were not so foolish as to swear it 
on the holy ring were you? ” When he did not answer, 
she raised her shoulders lightly. “ What should I know 
about such matters? Have you not told me, many times 
and oft, that it behooves a woman to shun meddling 
with great affairs? ” 

He gave a short laugh, “And when were you 
ever before content to follow that advice? ” Letting 
the braid slip from his fingers, he stood looking her 
up and down, his lips curling with scorn. “Yet 
this was not needful to show me that the elves felt 
they had done their full day’s work when they had 
made you a body,” he said. And whether he did 
not see her bridling displeasure, or whether he saw 
and no longer cared to appease it, the result was the 
same. 

Randalin spoke abruptly to her companion. “ Dear- 
wyn, I can tell you something. Elfgiva will never get 
the queenship over England.” 

“ What moves you to say that? ” the little English 
girl asked her, startled. 


266 


A BLOOD-STAINED CROWN 


But Randalin’s attention had gone back to the 
King, who had turned where the son of Lodbrok waited 
regarding him over sternly-folded arms. 

“ Brother,” he was saying gravely, “ your opinion 
is powerful with me, so I will openly tell you that you 
are wrong in your belief. I was satisfied with the 
crown of an under-king, satisfied to pass the time as 
I had been doing. Never have I so much as hinted to 
yonder peace-nithing a word of harm against Edmund 
Ironside.” 

From Thorkel the Tall came one of his rare laughs, 
— a sound like the grating of a rusty hinge, — and 
Rothgar unfolded his arms to fling them out in angry 
rejection. 

“This is useful to learn!” he sneered. “Do you 
think I could not guess that you had no need to put 
your desire into words after you had shown Edric by 
your actions that your mind and his are one, after you 
had admitted by your bond with him that you hold the 
same curious belief about honor? ” 

This time it was Randalin who clutched the Eng- 
lish girl. “ Oh ! ” she gasped. 

For Canute’s eyes were less like eyes than holes 
through which light was pouring, while his fingers 
opened and shut as though he had forgotten his sword 
and would leap upon the scoffer with bare hands. 

Thorkel left off laughing to grasp the Jotun’s arm 
and try to drag him backwards. “ Do you want to 
drive it from his mind that he has loved you? Go hide 
yourself in Fenrir’s mouth ! ” 

267 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


But the King did not spring upon his foster-brother. 
Even as they looked, the fire went out in his eyes, spark 
by spark, until they were lustreless as ashes, and at 
last he put up his hand and wiped great drops from his 
forehead. “ Never had you the keenness to father that 
judgment,” he said in a strangely dull voice. “ It must 
be that a god spoke through your mouth.” Leaving 
them, he moved forward to the well and stood gazing 
into it, his fingers mechanically raking together and 
crushing the dead leaves that had fluttered down upon 
the curbing. 

Dearwyn’s pretty lips began to quiver with ap- 
proaching tears. “ Randalin, I am miserably terrified. 
The air feels as though awful things were about to 
happen.” 

“ It seems that the world has begun to fall to 
pieces everywhere,” Randalin said wearily. The mo- 
mentary forgetfulness which the happenings around her 
had created was beginning to give way before the 
weight in her breast. She drew herself up listlessly. 
“ Is it of any use to remain up here, Dearwyn? ” 

But Dearwyn’s grasp had tightened. “ See ! the 
King is beginning to speak.” 

Whom he was addressing was not quite clear even 
though he had turned back to the group of nobles, for 
his eyes still gazed into space, but his words sounded 
distinctly : “ Heavy is it to lose faith in others, but 
heavier still to lose faith in one’s self. ... I know that 
no word of mine urged Edric to this deed, but what my 
eyes may have said, or some trick of my voice or my 

268 


A BLOOD-STAINED CROWN 


face, is not so sure. ... It may be that I wanted this 
thing to happen without knowing it. When I see what 
it has brought me, I cannot understand how I could 
help wanting it. . . . It is true that I do not always 
know for certain what I have at heart.” His eyes came 
back from space to rest musingly on Elfgiva. “ When 
I began this feasting-time, I thought I had grasped 
heaven with my hands, but now — ” he spread out his 
fingers and released the little bunch of dead leaves that 
he had been rolling against his palm — “ now I let not 
this go from me more easily. ... You see that a man is 
not sure even of his own mind.” 

Again his head was sinking on his breast, when he 
raised it with a fierceness that startled them. “ One 
thing only I am sure of, and that is that I have done 
forever with craft. Hereafter, if a man is a hindrance 
to me, Rothgar’s axe shall send him to Hel while it is 
broad daylight and all his friends are looking. Such 
is my luck with craft as though I had grasped a viper 
by the tail, in the belief that I had seized its snout. . . . 
I have been finely treated. . . . Not only have I been 
betrayed by all of you who have thought such thoughts 
of me, but now some troll has got into me and turned 
me false to myself so that I cannot give you punishment 
for your treason! Certainly the gods must think this 
crown of great value since, before they give it to me, 
they take from me all that I have thought my happiness, 
and rob me of my honor as well ! ” 

He dashed his fist against the tree beside him and 
did not seem to feel it when his hand was bleeding. 

269 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Here I take oath that they shall cause their gift to 
prove its value ! It shall be meat and drink to me, and 
honor and life itself. Many happenings shall spring 
from this gift, for I will put my whole strength into 
the holding of it; Odin himself shall not wrest it 
from me! I will be such a king that there will not be 
many to equal me ; such a king that they will wish they 
had given me happiness and left me a man.” 

Whirling, he flung out his bleeding hand toward 
Elfgiva, and his mouth was distorted with its bitterness. 
“ Hear that, you who were so mad to have your lord the 
King of England that you could not spend a thought 
on the love of Canute of Denmark! You have got your 
wish, — go back now to your Northamptonshire castle 
and think whether or not you are gladdened by it.” 

“ Go back ! ” Elfgiva fell from her height of injured 
dignity with a piercing scream. “ What is it you say, 
King? Now by the splendor of heaven, you depart not 
for London without me ! Be it known to you that I am 
going to be your Queen.” 

At first he looked at her in genuine astonishment; 
after that he laughed, neither angrily nor bitterly, but 
with the quietness of utter contempt. “ I will have the 
London goldsmiths send you a crown if you wish,” 
he said. “ That is all you understand about being a 
queen.” 

She tried to protest, to cajole, to threaten. She tried 
to do so many things at once that she accomplished 
none of them. Her speech became less and less intel- 
ligible until tears and hysterical laughter reduced it 

270 


A BLOOD-STAINED CROWN 


to mere mouthings, while her tiny hands beat the air 
with fingers bent hook-like. 

But the young King did not look at her again. He 
had rejoined his nobles and was leading them toward 
the door, giving rapid orders as he walked. “ Do you, 
Rothgar, see to it that the horses are saddled. Kinsman 
Ulf, it is my will that you join us some while later, 
when you have seen these women returned in safety. 
You, my chiefs, get you ready to ride to Oxford as 
quick as is possible.” His voice was lost in the tramp- 
ling as they stepped from the turf upon the flagging of 
the gallery. 

When the echoing tread was gone at last from the 
cloister, the garden seemed strangely silent in spite of 
the hurrying servants, — silent and empty. In the still- 
ness, it came slowly to Randalin that life was not so 
simple as she had supposed; that she was not going 
to die of her grief but to live with it, — live with this 
dead emptiness in her breast. The years seemed to 
stretch before her like the snow wastes of the North, 
— white, white, white, without a break of living green. 


271 


CHAPTER XXIV 


ON THE ROAD TO LONDON 

Hotter than fire 
Love for five days burns 
Between false friends; 

But is quenched 

When the sixth day comes, 

And friendship is all impaired. 


HAVAMAL. 



|ROM Edgeware, where the 
Watling Street left the 
Middlesex Forest to cross 
the barren heath known as 
Tyburn Lane, the great 


road was crowded with 


f travellers. A small portion 
of them — messengers, sol- 
diers, and hunting-parties 
1 — were riding northward, 


but the great mass was facing the City whither they 
were pressing to warm themselves in the glow of the 
Coronation. On foot, on horseback, in wagons and on 
crutches, they were as motley a throng as had ever trod 
the Roman stones; and the respectable element among 
them was by no means large enough to leaven the 
lump. Sometimes a group of merchants was to be seen, 


272 



ON THE ROAD TO LONDON 


conducting loaded wagons; sometimes, a thane’s pom- 
pous thane, ensheathed in his retinue; while occasion- 
ally, as they neared the New Gate, the crowd was swelled 
by squads of the lesser Cheapside dealers making the 
daily pilgrimage from their country dwellings to their 
stalls in the City. But these were as scattered islands 
in the stream of half drunken seamen, masterless thralls, 
wolf-eyed beggars, paupers, vagabonds and criminals, 
who were pushing toward London in hopes of pleasure 
or gain or for want of another goal. 

Amid such a rabble, and as out of place as a swarm 
of butterflies in frost-silvered air, a band of high-born 
women was to be seen approaching the City this early 
December morning. Gorgeously attired pages, hardly 
more warlike than the women, made a blooming hedge 
around them, while a sufficiently strong guard of men- 
at-arms protected them from actual harm, but from 
impudent comment and ribald jest there was no defence. 
Their hoods were pulled down as before a storm, their 
mantles drawn up above their chins; and all but two 
of them appeared to be trying to shrink into their gilded 
saddles. 

The two who rode at their head, however, looked 
to be of a different mettle. Indeed, in the quality of 
her courage, each appeared to differ from the other, 
though muffling folds blotted out anything like indi- 
viduality. The shorter of the two, while she rode with 
gracefully drooping head, had left her face practically 
uncovered, seemingly unconscious of the half slighting, 
half pitying admiration elicited by its pathetic beauty. 

18 273 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


The other, who showed no more than the tip of her 
nose, held her head bravely erect, while, even through 
her wrappings, the straightness of her back breathed 
haughtiness. 

Yet it was not to the pensive fair one that a timid 
companion appealed for comfort, when a temporary 
damming of the stream pressed those who led, back 
upon those who followed. She stretched out an en- 
treating hand toward the girl with the haughtily carried 
head. 

“ Randalin ! What will he do — the King — when 
he finds that we have fooled Ulf Jarl, and come hither 
against his command? ” 

The Danish girl laughed recklessly. “ Little do I 
care, Candida, to tell it truthfully. Nothing can be 
worse than sitting in that Abbey. Here at least there 
is a chance that something may happen to help us to 
forget that we are alive. ,, 

Candida shook the cloak she had grasped. “ But 
you expect that he will be angry ! You told Elfgiva not 
to undertake the journey because of it. And you were 
able to say the soothest about his temper. ,, 

“ I was obliged to tell her that to be honest,” Ran- 
dalin answered, and again there was a little wildness 
in her laugh, “ but I should have gone stone-mad if she 
had not come.” Yet, as her horse commenced to bear her 
forward once more, she consented to speak more en- 
couragingly across the widening space. “ If his humor 
is right, it may be that nothing disagreeable will hap- 
pen. She is very fair to look at, — it may be that his 

274 


ON THE ROAD TO LONDON 


mind will change at the sight of her. Think that you 
will sleep in the Palace to-night.” 

Catching this last phrase, as her Valkyria came 
abreast of her, Elfgiva spoke pettishly: “You see fit 
to sing a different tune from what you did when you 
tried to hinder me from this undertaking. I should 
have brighter hopes if I had not given ear to your advice 
to send a messenger ahead. If I could have come upon 
him before he had time to work himself into a hostile 
temper — ” 

Her attention wandered as a couple of tipsy soldiers 
elbowed themselves between the guards only to catch 
a nearer glimpse of her face, after which they allowed 
themselves to be thrust back, shouting drunken toasts 
to her beauty. 

“ Is it your wish that I help you to lower your hood, 
lady?” the Danish girl made offer. 

Elfgiva’s half smile deepened into a laugh. “ Not 
so, not so ! ” she said. “ What ! Have you seen so 
much of war and battle axes that you have forgotten 
the ways that are pleasing to men? Yet methinks you 
must needs have taken notice that, always before he 
goes into battle, a soldier tests the sharpness of his 
weapon. It is to that end that I endure the gaze of 
these serfs, — to test the power of my face.” 

“ It would not be unadvisable for you to whet your 
wits as well,” Frode’s daughter muttered scornfully, — 
and somewhat rashly, since Elfgiva’s wits had been 
sharp enough to guess the significance of her hand- 
maiden’s interview with the young English noble, and 

275 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


the knowledge had given her a weapon which she was 
skilful in using. 

“ Has the sharpness of your mind brought you 
so much success then, my sweet ?” she inquired with 
her faultless smile; and had the satisfaction of see- 
ing her rebel shrink into silence like a child before 
a rod. 

The crowding of the highway became more notice- 
able as they neared the point where the Watling Street 
swerved from its old course, toward the ford and the 
little Isle of Thorns, to bend eastward toward the New 
Gate. Some obstruction at the forking of the roads 
impeded their progress almost to a walk. After a 
brief experience of it, Elfgiva spoke impatiently to the 
nearest soldier. 

“ Why does it become more crowded when two 
paths open before us? Why does it not happen that 
some of these cattle turn down the old way?” 

The man shook his head. “ I do not think there 
is much likelihood of that, lady; since the Bridge was 
built, no one has wanted to use the ford; and there is 
little else to take that way for, unless you are going to 
service in the West Minster or to the Monastery.” 

“Wanted!” the Lady of Northampton repeated 
in the extremity of scorn. “ Bid them turn into that 
road at once. They stand some chance of their faces 
getting clean if they take the ford, — if they also get 
drowned matters very little. Tell them, seek what they 
may seek, to take that way instantly, or the King shall 
punish them for interfering with their betters.” 

276 


ON THE ROAD TO LONDON 


The man pushed up his leather cap to scratch his 
head. He was not unacquainted with her custom of 
sweeping the Northamptonshire serfs off any road she 
wished to possess, but that struck him as being some- 
what easier than dispersing a Coronation mob at the 
gates of London; and yet to defy her — that was 
harder than either of them! It was an interposition of 
his good angel that at this moment provided a diversion. 

Randalin broke from her silence with an exclama- 
tion : “ Thorkel ! Yonder ! ” 

Less than fifty paces ahead of them, the grizzled 
head of the King’s foster-father rose steeple-like above 
the crowd, while the mighty shoulders of the King’s 
foster-brother made a bulwark beside it, and the gilded 
helms of the King’s guard formed a palisade around 
them. The obstacle in the way was nothing less than 
a royal detachment drawn up in waiting beside the 
road. 

Elfgiva’s frown relaxed ; for the first time in many 
days she let the liquid music of her laughter trickle 
forth. “ Be blithesome in your minds, maidens ! ” she 
called gayly over her shoulder. “ Friends are at hand 
to take charge of us.” 

Taking into consideration what they had expected, 
the attention was so flattering that at first they scarcely 
dared believe it ; but its truth was proved the moment 
Thorkel turned his head and saw them coming. At his 
command, the line of gilded helms quickly drew out 
across the road in a barrier which once more dammed 
the human stream to overflowing. A break in the middle 

277 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


allowed the party from Gloucester to filter through; 
then the opening closed behind them; the line bent at 
either end, and they moved as between walls, guarded 
against any further jostling or rude contact. Elfgiva 
sparkled with delight and greeted the Tall One with 
more affability than she had ever before deigned his 
gruffness. 

“ Since my royal lord came not himself to meet us,” 
she said graciously, — and pushing her hood entirely 
back so that he might get the full benefit of her face, — 
“ he has well honored us in his messengers, than whom 
no persons could be more welcome. I pray you, tell 
me without delay how it stands with his health and his 
fortunes.” 

Turning from a muttered word to the soldier at his 
side, Thorkel answered her with his usual curtness. 
“ He thrives well, but his time is full of great matters. 
To-day he is with the English Witan. Yesterday they 
chose him to be their king. To-morrow he is to be 
crowned.” 

“ To-morrow? And he would have let me remain 
in ignorance ! ” The Lady of Northampton was unable 
to repress a start of anger, though she turned it as soon 
as possible into a plaintive sigh. “ Let me be thank- 
ful that my arrival is not too late. I cannot tell you 
how we have been beset with hardships ! ” Where- 
upon, she instantly began telling him, giving free rein to 
eyes and lips and all the graceful tricks of her hands. 
It did not disturb her in the least that he rode beside 
her in silence, when she had observed that from under 

278 


ON THE ROAD TO LONDON 

the bristling thatch of his brows his gaze never left her 
face. 

So complete was her preoccupation that she dis- 
regarded another thing, — the highway along which 
they were travelling. It was Randalin who first awoke 
to a consciousness that the noise of the rabble had 
become very faint behind them, that no sounds at all 
broke the stillness ahead of them, that the uneven 
weed-grown path they were treading was very different 
from the smooth hardness of the Watling Street. Fens 
on either side of them, a low hill to the front — was 
this the way to London? For the first time, she spoke 
to the son of Lodbrok, who had silently taken his place 
at her side. 

“ This is not the Watling Street! Yet we have not 
turned — Where are we?” 

Rothgar gnawed at his heavy moustache as though 
the answer were difficult to frame; and before he had 
time to evolve it, Elfgiva, who had caught the exclama- 
tion, had broken off her prattle. 

“ That is true ! The crowd has disappeared — the 
stones are overlaid with weeds — ” In her bewilder- 
ment, she reined in her horse and would have stopped 
to look about her, if Thorkel’s hand upon her bridle had 
not compelled her to remain in motion. 

“ You are still on the Watling Street/’ he said 
harshly. “ It is only that this is the old bed of it that 
has not been used much since the Bridge was built. 
Besides the ford, it leads also to Saint Peter’s Monas- 
tery on Thorney — ” 

279 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Stung with fear, she tried to snatch the lines from 
him. “ I am not going to a monastery ! I am going to 
the Palace.’* 

As a cliff stands against the fretting of waves, his 
grasp stood against hers; and his voice was as immov- 
able as his hand. “ Certainly you are going to a palace, 

— you did not let me carry out my meaning. Adjoining 
the Monastery there is a dwelling-place which was once 
a house for travellers, that King Edgar himself has slept 
in — ” 

“ It is a prison you are taking me to ! ” Her voice 
rose in a shriek. “ It is a prison! You are mocking me 

— I will scream for help ! ” 

His smile mocked her openly then. “ By all 
means,” — he assented, — “ and see how much it will 
profit you.” 

She realized then that walls were for shutting people 
in as well as for shutting people out, and she could 
have screamed for very temper. Yet she made one more 
attempt before giving way. Abandoning her struggle 
for the lines, she let her little gloved hands alight like 
fluttering birds upon his mailed arm, and summoned 
all the eloquence of her beauty into her heavenly eyes. 

“ No, sooner would I trust to you,” she murmured. 
“You could not mistreat me so! I beseech it of you, 
take me to the Palace where the King is.” 

On what she based her belief that he was incapable 
of thwarting her is not quite clear, for he had never 
taken the trouble to hide the fact that he considered 
her a nuisance, and her civil marriage with the King 

280 


ON THE ROAD TO LONDON 


a piece of youthful folly on Canute's part. Sinister 
satisfaction was in his tone when he answered her. 

“ The Palace where the King is,” he said, “ is the 
Palace for a Queen.” 

At first, it seemed that she would either scratch 
out his eyes or throw herself from her saddle. But in 
the end she did neither, for a sense of her helplessness 
turned her faint. To one who has always ruled undis- 
puted, there is something benumbing in the first col- 
lision with the pitiless hand of Force. “ If I had the 
good luck to see a bee caught in a brier, I should wish 
your death,” she threatened. But she said it under her 
breath; and after that, rode with drooping head and 
eyes that saw nothing of the scene before her. 

When the road had left the fens, it climbed a low 
hill, beyond which it entered a wood. A brook was the 
further boundary of the wood, and across its brawling 
brown water a rude stone bridge continued their path, 
and linked the bank with the little Isle of Thorns. 
Nature must have had a prison in mind when she con- 
structed this island, Elfgiva thought with a shiver. A 
low sandy hillock rising amid three streams of water, 
the high tide would have cut it off completely but for 
the friendly arm which the Watling Street extended 
to it from the Tot Hill, while a thicket of brambles and 
briers edged it like a natural prison wall. Nor had man 
forgotten such defences, she found when they had 
passed a gap in the thorny hedge ; a fence of stone rose 
sheer before them and extended on either hand as far 
as eye could reach. In the fence was a great gate of 

281 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


black oak, which a black-robed Benedictine presently 
opened to their summons. 

Now for the first time, Thorkel took his hand from 
her rein. “ I will go no farther,” he said. “ You are ex- 
pected, and one of the monks will be your guide. It lies 
only across the court and through one more door.” His 
lips curled in their cruel smile as he motioned her for- 
ward. “ Go in and take possession. It is not sure how 
soon the King will get time to come to you. His mood 
has not been very playful lately. Rothgar’s sword has 
scarcely had time to go to bed in its sheath — ” 

“ The King is occupied with great matters,” Roth- 
gar’s heavy voice bore down the old man’s thinner 
tones. “ It is not only that he has to be crowned and 
make laws. He has many Englishmen to dispose of, 
and much land to divide up among his following.” 

While Elfgiva’s glance passed him uncomprehend- 
ingly, Randalin lifted startled eyes. When she saw that 
he was looking directly at her, she knew that it was 
no chance shaft, but an arrow aimed at her heart. The 
time had come that he had looked forward to, when 
Canute should get the kingship over the English, and 
Ivarsdale should come back to the race that had built 
it. And it was all fair, quite fair, quite within the rules 
of the game at which she herself had played. She had 
not a word to offer as she lowered her eyes and let her 
horse follow the others as it would. There was satis- 
faction on the lips of each of the King’s deputies as they 
rode cityward that day. 


282 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE KING’S WIFE 


Long is and indirect the way 
To a bad friend’s, 

Though by the road he dwell. 

HAVAMAL. 



HE fact that King Edgar 
had slept under its uneven 
roof, on some visit to Dun- 
stan’s monkish colony, was 
scarcely sufficient to make 
a palace of the rambling 
rookery which a wall sepa- 
rated from the West Min- 
ster. It was an irregular 
one-storied building, — or, 
rather, group of buildings connected by covered pas- 
sages, — and every kind of material had been used in 
its construction, — brick and stone and wood, — while 
some of the smaller offices were even straw-thatched 
and wattled. 

“ It is the waste-place of ruins,” Elfgiva said on 
the day of their arrival, when the monk who guided 
them proudly identified the brick portions as frag- 
ments of the old Roman Temple to Apollo, the wooden 
door-posts as beams from the Saxon Seberht’s refectory, 


283 




THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


and the stone walls as contributions from Dunstan’s 
chapel, which the Danes of the year one thousand and 
twelve had reduced to a crumbling pile. 

To-day, a fortnight later, Randalin repeated the 
comment with a despondent addition : “ It is the waste- 
place of ruins, and ruins have come to dwell in it. I 
can believe that it is no lie about the Fates to call them 
women, when they put like with like in so housewifely 
a manner.” 

She was alone in one of the bare mouldering rooms, 
leaning against the deep-set small-paned window which 
had become her accustomed post. It offered no pleas- 
anter outlook than the snow-powdered thicket beyond 
the wall and a glimpse of the Thames, spreading silently 
over the surrounding marshes ; but from it her fancy’s 
eye could follow the mighty stream around its eastern 
bend to the point where the City walls began, and Saint 
Paul’s shingled steeple reared itself in lofty pride. The 
Palace stood in the shade of that steeple, — the real 
Palace, where the King sat deciding over the fate of his 
new subjects, taking their lands from them, when he 
did not take their lives, and banishing them across the 
sea to live and die in beggary. Her fingers tapped the 
glass in desperation as she realized her helplessness 
even to get news of his judgments. 

“ The King will never come to this rubbish heap,” 
she told herself despairingly. “ Here we are buried no 
less than if we lay in a mound. It is not likely that 
we shall get news by an easier way than by going to 
him.” 


284 


THE KING'S WIFE 


Straining her eyes out over the mist-robed river, 
she tried for the thousandth time to think of some bait 
alluring enough to tempt Elfgiva to that point of daring. 
Hope the Lady of Northampton had every morning 
when she awoke and looked in her mirror, and Wrath 
lay down with her every night, but the rashness which 
had prompted her first attempt, Thorkel must have 
taken away with him, a trophy tied to his saddle-bow. 
She made big plans and she talked big words, — but 
always she put off their fulfilment until the morrow. 

“ At this gait, he could be dead and in his grave 
without my knowing it ! ” Randalin cried in despair, 
and her voice made it quite clear that “ he ” no longer 
meant the King. Since there was no one to see it, she 
even allowed her head to fall forward on her arms, and 
let the ache in her throat ease itself in a little sob. 
“ Now it is open to me that I was foolish to let what 
happened in the garden, that day, cause so much sad- 
ness in my heart,” she sighed. “ It should have been 
a great joy to me that he was still safe and happy . . . 
and I should have found some hope in it, also, for as 
long as he is in England there would always be the 
chance that I might see him again. . . . And perhaps, 
after a long while, when he had quite forgotten how 
I looked as Fridtjof, ... if I should be able to learn 
many graceful woman's ways from Elfgiva, . . . and 
if he should come upon me when I had on a very beau- 
tiful kirtle, ... so long as he likes my hair . . .'' 

But even as the smile budded on her lips, she 
plucked it from them, trembling. “ How dare I think 

285 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


of such things, when already they may have driven him 
across the sea! It would be quite enough if I could 
know that the same land is to hold us both, if I could 
have the hope of seeing him again to make it seem 
worth while for me to go on living. Oh, I did not 
dream how much I leaned on that, until it was taken 
from me ! ” In the utter loneliness of her despair, she 
crushed her face against her arm, pressing back the 
burning tears, and her heart rose in a prayer to the 
Englishman’s God, since her own no longer answered 
her : “ Oh, Thou God, if Thou art kind and helpful as 
he says, it is easy for Thee to let him remain here where 
I can sometimes see him ! Leave me this one hope, and 
I also will believe in Thee.” With her face hidden, she 
stood there praying it until it rang so strong through 
her soul that it seemed to her the Power could not 
but hear. And after He had heard, it would be so 
simple, — if He was as helpful as Sebert said. 

There was new resolution in her movements when 
at last she left the window and went toward Elfgiva’s 
bower. “ I will try once more to entice her to the 
Palace, so that I can get tidings,” she determined. 
“ Perhaps it will be easier if at first I suggest no more 
than a ride, and after that allure her by degrees. I 
wonder what kind of humor she is in.” 

It was not necessary to go far to obtain a hint as 
to that. Even as she entered the passage, she heard 
from the bower-chamber the crash of a chair overturned, 
the scramble of scurrying feet, and then screams and the 
thud of blows. 


286 


THE KING’S WIFE 


“ Now it is heard that she is not sulking among her 
cushions,” Randalin observed. “ When her temper is 
up she is little afraid of doing things which she else 
would not dare do.” 

According to that her expectations should have 
mounted high, as she drew aside the door curtain, for 
the Lady of Northampton was far from sulking. Par- 
tially disrobed, as she had sprung up from before her 
mirror, she was holding the luckless Dearwyn with one 
hand while with the other she administered pitiless pun- 
ishment from a long club-like candle which she had 
snatched from its holder. Between her entreaties for 
mercy, the little maid was shrieking with pain; now, 
at sight of Randalin, she redoubled her struggles so 
that the belt by which her mistress grasped her burst 
and left her free to dart forward and fling herself behind 
the Danish girl. 

“ Help me, help me ! ” she gasped ; as Elfgiva 
swooped upon both of them, her streaming hair taking 
on a resemblance to bristling fur, her eyes showing 
more of opal’s fire than of heaven’s blue. 

“ Come not betwixt, or I will treat you in a like 
manner,” the mistress panted. “ Do you understand 
the evil she has wrought? She has broken the wing 
off my gold fly, besides tearing the hair half out of my 
head. It is not to be borne with ! ” 

But the Valkyria’s fear of Elfgiva’s tongue did 
not extend to Elfgiva’s hands. Catching the dimpled 
wrists, she held them off with perfect coolness, as she 
said soothingly, “Now you tire yourself much, lady; 

287 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


and you will tire yourself more if you consent to the 
entertainment I came hither to propose.” She laughed, 
a little excitedly, as a thought struck her. “ It may 
even be that you will not blame her for this, but rather 
take it as a sign that my advice is good.” 

To say “ sign” to Elfgiva was something like say- 
ing “ cream ” to a cat. Gradually she ceased trying to 
free her hands, to gaze at her captor. “ What do you 
mean by that? Or have you any meaning except 
only trying for an excuse to get this hussy off from 
punishment? ” 

“ No, in truth, for I thought of it before I knew 
that trouble had happened to her,” Randalin answered ; 
and now she knew that it was safe to release the wrists. 
“ I will show you. I was thinking how it might cause 
amusement to us to ride into the City and see what the 
goldsmiths have in their booths. And then I came in 
here and found you in need of goldsmiths’ mending! 
Does not that look like a sign that my thought is 
good? ” 

Elfgiva threw aside the candle to come close and 
lay her hands upon the girl’s breast. “ Good for what? ” 
she demanded. “ Do you think it likely that I might 
fall in with the King somewhere in the City? ” 

This was going a bit faster than Randalin had 
planned, and her breath came quickly, but she took the 
risk and admitted it. “ I did hope that it might happen 
that we would see the King,” she said, “ and — what 
is more important to us — that the King might see 
you.” 


288 


THE KING'S WIFE 


Slowly, the King’s wife went back to her seat 
before the mirror, and sat there fingering and turning 
the jewelled rouge-pots in a deep study. 

“ Deliver me your opinion of this, Teboen? ” she 
said, at last, to the big raw-boned British woman who 
was her nurse and also the female majordomo of her 
household. 

Teboen was enough mistress of the magic art to 
give anything like an omen its due weight, — and per- 
haps she was also human enough to be weary of a fort- 
night’s imprisonment with a porcupine. After becom- 
ing deliberation, she replied that she thought rather 
favorably of the plan, that certainly it could do no harm, 
since a visit to the booths had never been forbidden 
to them, while it would be almost as sure to do good if 
the King could be reminded of how beautiful a woman 
he was neglecting. 

Elfgiva’s laughter was like returning sunshine. 
“ How! You say so? Then will we make ready with- 
out delay! Leonorine, come hither and finish clothing 
me, — Dearwyn would shake too much. Lay aside 
your whimpering, child ; the scourging is forgiven you. 
Tata, I could find it in my mind to scold you for not 
thinking of this before. You must mouth the order 
for the horses, though,” she added as an afterthought. 
“ I should expect it would be told me that I am a pris- 
oner, whereat I should weep for rage.” 

Another flash of daring lighted Randalin’s eyes, 
though her mouth remained quiet. “ A good way to 
keep them from thinking you a prisoner, lady, is to act 

19 289 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


like a free woman,” she said. “ I shall tell them that 
you are going to the Palace to see your husband.” 
Sowing her seed, she left it to take root, and went away 
to convince the head of the grooms. 

As she had foretold, he was too uncertain regarding 
their position to dare contest their order, little as he 
liked it. In something less than an hour, the five 
women, fur-wrapped and flanked by pages and soldiers, 
were riding across the little stone bridge and up the 
wooded slope of the Tot Hill. In something more than 
an hour after that, they were passing under the deep 
arch of the New Gate into the great City itself. 

“ Do you purpose to visit the Palace first, noble 
one? ” the leader of the guards inquired with a respect- 
ful if uneasy salute. 

The seed had rooted so far that Elfgiva did not 
disclaim the intention; but she hesitated a long time, 
pulling nervously at the embroidered top of her riding 
glove. “ In what direction lie the goldsmiths? ” she 
asked at last. 

“ Straight ahead, lady. Nothing very pleasant is 
at the beginning ; neither the shambles which lie across 
the way, nor the wax chandler’s which is opposite ; but 
when you get beyond Saint Martin’s to the Commons, 
you will find — ” 

The lady’s nose wrinkled disdainfully. “ Which 
way lies the Palace? ” 

“ Down the lane on your left, noble one. You can 
see where the wall of the King’s garden makes one side 
of Paternoster Row. You can reach the Cheapside 

290 


THE KING’S WIFE 


along the road also,” he added, “ if you do not turn 
in your way until you come where the Churchyard 
joins the Folk — ” 

“ Turn then to the left.” 

They obeyed her, but their gay chatter died on their 
lips. If the road bore none of the repulsiveness of the 
shambles, it was still little more cheerful than the 
graveyard. On their right, an ice-stiffened marsh 
reached to the great City wall, while a remnant of the 
primeval beech forest lay along their left, leafless, wind- 
lashed and groaning. Ahead, behind its walls and 
above its gardens of clustering fruit-trees, rose the 
towers and gilded spires of the King’s Palace. 

As they neared the arched gateway, red with the 
cloaks of the royal guards, it seemed to Randalin that 
an icy hand had closed about her heart. The blood was 
ebbing from Elfgiva’s face, and it could be seen that 
she was forced to keep moistening her lips with her 
tongue. Nearer — now they were in front of the en- 
trance — All at once, the lady thrust a spur into her 
horse as he was slackening his pace in obedience to her 
tightened rein. 

“ To the goldsmiths’ first,” she ordered. “ On our 
way back — ” Her words were lost on the frosty wind. 

The master of the first booth in the row of wretched 
little stalls was humped with steaming breath over a 
brazier of glowing coals. He leaped to greet such 
splendid ladies with a profusion of salaams and a 
mouthful of pretty speeches that brought some .of the 
color back to Elfgiva’s cheeks. 

291 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Do not have me in contempt, Tata,” she admon- 
ished with a laugh of some unsteadiness. “ It is not 
certain that I am going to belie you to the guards, or 
that I have lost faith in your sign. Let me sharpen my 
weapon for some space among these precious things, 
and it may be that I shall go hence panting for the 
field.” 

“ Ah, gracious lady, you must needs buy my whole 
stock,” the merchant cried with ingratiating smiles, 
“ for I can never endure to sell to another what I have 
once seen near your face.” 

Elfgiva laughed beautifully then, and the Danish 
girl took a fresh grip upon her patience. Certainly the 
jewelled bugs, the golden snakes, the strands of amber 
and jet and pearl, seemed to act as tonics upon the 
Northampton lady. If she had not traded away, at the 
first two stalls, every ornament in her possession, she 
would have investigated each booth in the square. She 
came out in bubbling spirits to the waiting horses and 
the half-frozen guards. 

“ This Cheapside is a very fairy garden,” she 
prattled, lingering with her foot in the hand of the 
kneeling groom. “ Everything in beds and rows as 
they were herbs, — milk down this lane, soap down 
that, jewels, fabrics — ” She turned with a sudden in- 
spiration. “ Maidens, would not this be a merry 
thought? To find out where the fabrics are kept and 
try some cloth of gold against these pearls?” 

As the servile murmur answered, Randalin’s brow 
darkened. Cloth of gold and pearls, — when a wolf 

292 


THE KING’S WIFE 

was tearing at her heart ! She spoke desperately, “ I 
wish that the way to the fabrics might lie past the 
King’s House, lady.” 

The King’s wife sent her a glance, half resentful, 
half questioning. “ Why do you say that? ” 

“ Because if Canute could see you as you look now, 
with your cheeks a-flower and that ermine, like snow, 
upon your hair, there is nothing in the world he could 
refuse you.” 

Elfgiva’s mouth curved bewitchingly. “ You speak 
as though you had jewels to sell. What fine manners 
they have, these London merchants! Tell me, Candida, 
Leonorine, does she speak the truth? On your crosses, 
has not the cold reddened my nose? Or pinched the 
bloom off my lips?” 

If the murmur that answered lacked any heartiness, 
their mistress did not perceive it, for every man within 
earshot swelled it with reassurance, — thinking perhaps 
of the hot spiced wine in the King’s cups. 

After a moment of hesitation, she flew up to her 
saddle like a bird. “ Do you all think so? ” she laughed. 
“ Certainly I never felt in lustier spirits. I declare that 
I will try it. Hasten, before the roses wilt in my cheeks. 
Forward ! To the Palace ! ” 


293 


CHAPTER XXVI 


IN THE JUDGMENT HALL 

Strong is the bar 
That must be raised 
To admit all. 

HAVAMAL 


|HILE he kept a firm hold 
upon the spear which he 
had dropped like a gilded 
Ibar across the door, the 
English sentinel repeated 
for the tenth time his re- 
spectful denial : “ I will take 
it upon me to admit you to 
Ithe gallery, noble lady; but 
'though you were the Queen 
herself, I dare not let you in to the lower part. There 
be none but men with the King, and it is not fitting — ” 
“ And is the son of a Saxon serf to decide where it 
is fitting for me to go?” the Lady of Northampton 
demanded, facing him in a tempest of angry beauty. 
“ Whatsoever you shall do by my direction, dog, will 
in all respects be available to your credit. Let me 
through to my husband, or I can tell you that you will 
find your wariness terribly misplaced ! ” 

294 



IN THE JUDGMENT HALL 

The guard discreetly held his tongue, — but he 
likewise held his position. Elfgiva’s bosom was begin- 
ning to heave in hysterical menace when a second 
soldier, lounging against the wall behind the first, ven- 
tured a soothing word. 

“ For your own safety, noble one, ask it not. The 
King is listening to a quarrel between an Englishman 
and a Dane ; and by reason of it, there are many in the 
room whose tempers may — ” 

Randalin, who alone of all the maidens had re- 
mained undauntedly at her mistress’ elbow, caught that 
elbow in a vice-like grip. “ Take the gallery, then, 
lady ! ” she urged in a piercing whisper. “ The gallery, 
— as quick as you can.” 

As an angry cat wounds whoever is nearest, Elfgiva 
scratched her in the same undertone. “ Stupid ! Do 
you imagine that the only Englishman who has part in 
the world is the one you showed yourself a fool for? 
Do you not understand that if I let them assign me to 
some dark gallery, Canute will not be able to see me? ” 

It did not appear that the girl so much as felt the 
claws. Her eyes had a look of strained listening as they 
gazed past the sentinel and across the ante-room to the 
great curtained doorway. “ He will succeed better in 
seeing you through a dim light than through a stone 
wall,” she returned. 

Biting her lips, the fair Tyrant of Northampton 
measured the man through her lashes. He might have 
been of the same material as his spear for all the sign he 
showed of yielding. She could not understand such 

295 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


defiance, and, like mysteries in general, it awed even 
while it angered her. Affecting to draw herself up in 
disdain, she really gave back a step. “ Perhaps it would 
be wise to put off our visit until a day that there is a 
man at the door instead of a blockhead — ” 

Randalin’s arm was an iron barrier behind her. 
“ Now I do not know where you think the power to do 
that will come from ! ” she hissed in her ear. “ Do you 
not see that if you go back to your grooms and let them 
know that you have not got enough honor with the 
King to gain an entrance, they will never dare do your 
bidding again? Do you not see that you must do one 
of two things, or now win, or now lose? ” 

Apparently Elfgiva saw. After a moment’s bri- 
dling, she whirled back with an angry flounce of her 
draperies. “ The gallery, then, dog ! I shall reach my 
lord’s ear from that, which will be an unlucky thing 
for you.” 

Saluting in silence, the guard drew back to let her 
pass, at the same time signing to a row of men-at-arms 
standing motionless as pillars against the stone wall 
of the ante-room. With a rattle and clank they came 
to life, and the little band of five kirtles, surrounded and 
led, was marched to a low side-door which gave in upon 
a short flight of stone steps, white-frosted now with the 
dampness and their distance from the fire. At the head 
of the flight, another door gave entrance to a narrow 
passage that probably reached the length of the hall 
below, though it seemed to the shivering women to 
extend the length of the Palace itself. A third door, 

296 


IN THE JUDGMENT HALL 

ending this corridor, admitted them to the gallery that 
ran across the upper end of the hall. 

As she passed the threshold Elfgiva exclaimed in 
vexation, for the light of the log fire, whose rudely 
carved chimney-piece broke the long side-wall, suc- 
cumbed at the balcony’s lower edge to the shadows of 
the raftered ceiling, and all above was wrapped in soft 
twilight. “ He cannot tell me from a monster,” she 
fumed, letting herself sink into a faded tapestry chair, 
standing forgotten amid a pile of mouldering sushions. 

The three English girls, pressing timidly to her 
side, answered with indistinct murmurs which she could 
interpret to suit her pleasure. The Danish girl made her 
no reply whatever. Half kneeling, half sitting upon the 
cushions, her head was already bent over the gallery’s 
edge, and the scene below had claimed her eye and ear 
to the exclusion of all else. 

, • Whatever its shortcomings as a show-case, the bal- 
cony was excellently adapted both for spectators and 
for eavesdroppers, its distance from the floor being 
little more than twice a man’s height, while the fire 
which doled its light so stingily, lavished a glory of 
brightness on the spot where the King’s massive chair 
stood beside the chimney-piece. After one petulant 
glance, even Elfgiva’s pique gave way to a curiosity 
that gradually drew her forward to the very edge of 
her seat and held her there, the three maids crouching 
at her feet. 

Encircled by a martial throng, so massed and in- 
distinct that they made a background like embroidered 

297 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


tapestry, three figures were the centre of attention, 
— the figure of the young King in his raised chair, 
and the forms of the Dane and the Angle who 
fronted each other before his footstool. Shielded 
from the heat by his palm, Canute’s face was in the 
shadow, and the giant shape of the son of Lodbrok 
was a blot against the flames, but the glare lay 
strong on Sebert of Ivarsdale, revealing a picture that 
caused one spectator to catch her breath in a sob. 
Equally aloof from English thane and Danish noble, 
the Etheling in the palace of his native king stood a 
stranger and alone, while his swordless sheath showed 
him to be also a prisoner. He bore himself proudly, 
one of his blood could scarcely have done other- 
wise, but his fine face was white with misery, and 
despair darkened his eyes as they stared unseeingly 
before him. 

As well as though he had put his thoughts into 
words, the girl who loved him knew that his mind was 
back in the peaceful manor between the hills, foreseeing 
its desecration by barbarian hands, foretasting the ruin 
of those who looked to him for protection. From the 
twilight of the balcony, she stretched out her arms to 
him in a passion of yearning pity, and all of selfishness 
that had been in her grief faded from it utterly, as her 
heart sent forth a second prayer. 

“ Oh, Thou God, forget what I asked for myself ! 
Think only of helping him, of comforting him, and I 
will love Thee as though Thou hadst done it to me. 
Help him! Help him!” 


298 


IN THE JUDGMENT HALL 

Answering a question from the King, Rothgar be- 
gan to speak, his heavy voice seeming to fill all the 
space from floor to ceiling : “ By all the laws of war, 
King Canute, the Odal of Ivarsdale should come to 
me. The first son of Lodbrok took the land before 
ever this Angle’s kin had seen it. He built the tower 
that stands on it, and the name it bears to this day is 
the name of his giving. Under Guthrum, a weak-kneed 
son of his lost it to the English Alfred, and we fell out of 
our fortunes with the tipping of the scales, and Angles 
have sat since then in the seat of Lodbrok’s sons. But 
now the scales have risen again. Under Canute, Ivars- 
dale, with all other English property, comes back to 
Danish hands. By all the laws of war, my kinsman’s 
inheritance should be my share of the spoil.” 

Ending roundly, he drew himself up in an attitude 
of bold assurance. Wherever a group of scarlet cloaks 
made a bright patch upon the human arras, there was 
a flutter of approval. Even the braver of the English 
nobles, who for race-pride alone might have supported 
Sebert in a valid claim, saw nothing to do now but to 
draw away, with a silent interchange of shrugs and 
headshakes, and leave him to his doom. 

In the shadow of his hand, Canute nodded slowly. 
“ By all the laws of war,” he affirmed, “ your kinsman’s 
inheritance should be your share of the spoil.” 

Again an approving murmur rose from Danish 
throats; and Rothgar was opening his lips to voice a 
grateful answer, when a gesture of the royal hand 
checked him. 


2 99 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Recollect, however, that just now I am not only 
a war-chief, but also a law-man. I think it right, there- 
fore, to hear what the Englishman has to say for his 
side. Sebert Oswaldsson, speak in your defence.” 

Not even a draft appeared to stir the human tap- 
estry about them. Sebert started like a man awakened 
from sleep, when he realized that every eye was hanging 
upon him. Swiftly, his glance passed around the circle, 
from the averted faces of his countrymen to the foreign 
master on the throne, then bitterly he bent his head 
to his fate. 

“ I have nothing to say. Your justice may most 
rightly be meted out.” 

“ Nothing to say? ” The King’s measured voice 
sounded sharply through the hush. For the first time, 
he lowered his hand and bent forward where the fire- 
glow could touch him. 

As she caught sight of his face Elfgiva shrank and 
clutched at her women. “ Ah, Saints, I am thankful 
now that it is dark ! ” she murmured. 

Sebert sustained the look with proud steadiness. 
“ Nothing that would be of use to me,” he said; “ and 
I do not choose to pleasure you by setting up a weak 
plea for you to knock down again. The right which 
gave Britain to the Saxons has given England to the 
Danes, and it is not by words that such a right can be 
disputed. If your messengers had not taken me by 
surprise — ” He paused, with an odd curl to his lips 
that could hardly be called a smile; but Canute gave 
him grim command to finish, and he obeyed with rising 

300 


IN THE JUDGMENT HALL 

color. “ If your messengers had not come upon me 
as I was riding on the Watling Street and brought me 
here, a prisoner, I would have argued the matter with 
arrows, and you would needs have battered down the 
defence of stone walls to convince me.” 

Mutters of mingled admiration and censure buzzed 
around; and one English noble, more daring and also 
more friendly than the others, drew near and spoke a 
word of friendly warning in Sebert’s ear. Through it 
all, Canute sat motionless, studying the Etheling with 
his bright colorless eyes. 

At last he said unexpectedly, “ If you would not 
obey my summons until my men had dealt with you 
by force, it cannot be said that you have much respect 
for my authority. Do you not then acknowledge me 
as King of the English? ” 

Rothgar betrayed impatience at this branching 
aside. Sebert himself showed surprise. 

He said hesitatingly, “I — I cannot deny that. 
You have the same right that Cerdic had over the 
Britons. Nay, you have more, for you are the formal 
choice of the Witan. I cannot rightly deny that you 
are King of the Angles.” 

“ If you acknowledge me to be that,” Canute said, 
“ I do not see why you have not an argument for your 
defence.” 

While all stared at him, he rose slowly and stood 
before them, a dazzling figure as the light caught the 
steel of his ring-mail and turned his polished helm to 
a fiery dome. 


301 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 

“ Sebert Oswaldsson,” he said slowly, “ I did not 
feel much love toward you the first time I saw you, 
and it is hard for me not to hate you now, when I see 
what you are going to be the cause of. If your case 
had come before Canute the man, you would have re- 
ceived the answer you expect. But it is your luck that 
Canute the man is dead, and you stand before Canute 
the King. Hear then my answer: By all the laws of 
war, the land belongs to Ivar’s son; and had he re- 
gained it while war ruled, I had not taken it from him, 
though the Witan itself commanded me. But instead 
of regaining it, he lost it.” He stretched a forbidding 
hand toward Rothgar, feeling without seeing his angry 
impulse. “ By what means matters not ; battles have 
turned on a smaller thing, and the loyalty of those we 
have protected is a lawful weapon to defend ourselves 
with. The kinsman of Ivar a second time lost his in- 
heritance, and the opportunity passed — forever. For 
now it is time to remember that this is not war, but 
peace; and in times of peace it is not allowed to take 
a man’s land from him unless he has broken the law 
or offended honor, which no one can say this English- 
man has done. What concerns war-time is a thing 
by itself; as ruler over laws and land-rights, I cannot 
give one man’s lands to another, though the one be a 
man I care little for, and the other is my foster-brother. 
Go back therefore, unhindered, Lord of Ivarsdale, and 
live in peace henceforth. I do not think it probable 
that I shall ever call you to my friendship, but when 
the time comes that there is need of a brave and honest 

3° 2 


IN THE JUDGMENT HALL 

man to serve the English people in serving me, I shall 
send for you. Beware you that you do not neglect 
the summons of one whom you have acknowledged to 
be your rightful King! Orvar, I want you to restore 
to him his weapon and see him on his way in safety. 
Your life shall answer for any harm that comes to him.” 

With one hand, he struck down the murmur that 
was rising; with the other he made an urgent gesture 
of haste, which Orvar seemed to understand. Even 
while he was returning to the Lord of Ivarsdale his 
sword, he seized him by the arm and hurried him down 
the room, the Etheling walking like a man in a dream. 

From the dusk of the rafters, the girl who loved 
him stretched out her hands to him in tender fare- 
well, but there was no more of anguish in the gesture. 
Gazing after him, the tears rose slowly to her eyes 
and rolled slowly down her cheeks, but on her mouth 
was a little smile whose wondering joy mounted to 
exaltation. 

No need was there for her to hide either tear or 
smile, for no one of the women about her was so much 
as conscious of her existence. The murmur below was 
growing, despite the King’s restraining hand ; and now, 
crashing through it in hideous discord, came a burst 
of jeering laughter from the Jotun. What words he 
also spoke they could not catch, but they heard the 
Danish cries sink and die, aghast, and they saw a score 
of English thanes spring upon him and drag him back- 
wards. Above the noise of their scuffling, the King’s 
voice sounded stern and cold. 

3°3 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ While I act as law-man in my judgment hall, 
I will hear no disputing of my judgments. Whoso 
comes to me in my private chamber, as friend to friend, 
may tell his mind ; but now I speak as King, and what 
I have spoken shall stand.” 

Struggling with those who would have forced him 
from the room, Rothgar had no breath to retort with, 
but the words did not go unsaid because of that. 
Wherever scarlet cloaks made a bright patch, the hu- 
man arras swayed and shook violently, and then fell 
apart into groups of angry men whose voices rose in 
resentful chorus : 

“Such judgment by a Danish King is unexampled!” 
“King, are we all to expect this treatment?” “This 
is the third time you have ruled against your own 
men — ” “ Sven you punished for the murder of an 

Englishman — ” “ Because you forced Gorm to pay 

his debt to an Englishman, he has lost all the property 
he owns.” “ Now, as before, we want to know what 
this means.” “You are our chief, whose kingship we 
have held up with our lives — ” “ What are these 

English to you?” “They are the thralls your sword 
has laid-under, while we are of your own blood — ” 
“ It is the strong will of us warriors to know what you 
mean — ” “Yes, tell it plainly!” “We speak as we 
have a right.” Snarling more and more openly, they 
surged forward, closing around the dais in a fiery mass. 

In the cushions of the balcony, Leonorine hid 
her face with a cry ; “ They will murder him ! ” And 
Elfgiva rose slowly from her chair, her eyes dark with 

304 


IN THE JUDGMENT HALL 

horror yet unable to tear themselves from the scene 
below. The mail-clad King no longer looked to her 
like a man of flesh and blood but like a figure of iron 
and steel, that the firelight was wrapping in unendur- 
able brightness. His sword was no more brilliantly 
hard than his face, and his eyes were glittering points. 
The ring of steel was in his voice as he answered : 

“ You speak as you have a right, — but you speak 
as men who have swines’ memories. Was it your sup- 
port or your courage that won me the English crown? 
It may be that if I had waited until pyre and fire you 
would have done so, but it happened that before that 
time the English Witan gave it to me as a gift, in 
return for my pledge to rule them justly. My meaning 
in this judgment, and the others you dislike, is that I 
am going to keep that pledge. You are my men, and 
as my men you have supported me, and as my men 
I have rewarded you, — no chief was ever more open- 
handed with property toward his following, — but if 
you think that on that account I will endure from you 
trouble and lawlessness, you would better part from me 
and get into your boats and go back to my other king- 
dom. For I tell you now, openly and without deceit, 
that here henceforth there is to be but one rule for 
Angle and Dane alike; and I shall be as much their 
King as yours; and they shall share equally in my 
justice. You may like it or not, but that is what will 
take place.” 

How they liked it was suggested by a bursting 
roar, and the scuffling of many feet as the English 

20 305 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


leaped forward to protect their new King and the Danes 
whirled to meet them, but the women in the gallery 
did not wait to see the outcome. In a frenzy of terror, 
Elfgiva dragged up the kneeling maids and herded them 
through the door. 

“ Go, — before they get into the ante-room ! ” she 
gasped. “ Do you not see that he is no longer human? 
We should be pleading with iron. Go! Before they 
tear down the walls ! ” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


PIXIE-LED 


To a good friend’s 
The paths lie direct, 

Though he be far away. 

HAVAMAL. 



O Sebert of Ivarsdale went 
back to his tower unhin- 
dered; and the rest of the 
winter nights, while the 
winds of the Wolf Month 
howled about the palisades, 
he listened undisturbed to 
harper; and the rest of 
the winter days he trod in 
peace the homely routine of 
his lordship, — in peace and in absent-eyed silence. 

“ The old ways are clean fallen out of England, and 
it becomes a man to consider diligently how he will 
order his future,” he told Hildelitha and the old cniht 
when they inquired the reason for his abstraction. 

Perhaps it was the future that was engrossing his 
mind, but sometimes it came to him dimly as a strange 
thing how so small a matter as a slip of a girl in a page’s 
dress could loom so large that there was no corner of 
manor or tower but recalled some trick of her tossing 


307 



THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


curls, some echo of her ringing laughter. The platform 
whereon they had walked in the moonlight, facing death 
together, he shunned as he would have shunned a grave ; 
and the postern where they had parted was haunted 
ground. Did he tramp across the snow-crusted fields, 
memory clothed them again in nodding grain, and be- 
tween the golden walls a figure in elfin green flitted like 
a will o’ the wisp. Did he outsit the maids and men 
around his hearth and watch the dying fire with no other 
companions than his sleeping dogs, fancy placed a scar- 
let-cloaked figure on the cushion at his feet and raised at 
his knee a face of sweetest friendliness, whose flower- 
blue eyes brightened or gloomed in response to his 
lightest mood. . . . Once more he heard the harp-notes 
that told of the wood-nymph’s sorrow ; . . . once more 
he heard his laughing denunciation; . . . again there 
looked back at him the wounded eyes. . . . Whenever 
this vision rose before him, he stirred in his chair and 
turned his face from the light. 

“ May heaven grant that she is not remembering 
it ! ” he would murmur. And for a while he would see 
her as he had left her in the garden, holding herself so 
bravely erect in her shining robes, her white cheeks 
mocking at her smiling lips. A great well of pity would 
spring in his breast, drowning his heart with its pent-up 
gushing, and the waters would rise, rise, until they had 
touched his eyes. But always before they brimmed 
over, another change would come. Slowly, the rigid 
figure before him would relax into an attitude of idle 
grace, the white cheeks would regain their color, the 

308 


PIXIE-LED 


eyes their brightness, and — presto! she stood before 
him as he had seen her from the passage, a high-born 
maid among her kind, favored by the King, guarded by 
her lover. When he reached this point, he always 
rose with an abruptness that swept his goblet to the 
floor and awakened the sleeping dogs. 

“ Fool! ” he would spurn himself. “ Mad puffed-up 
fool! Keep in mind that she has her consolers, while 
you have only your wound. If she could stake her all 
upon the son of Lodbrok and then give him up at the 
turn of the wheel, is it in any way likely that she is 
dead with tears for you? What? It may easily be 
that she has had a new love for every month that has 
passed. ,, 

As the winter wore on, he grew restless in his 
solitude, restless and sullen as the waters of the little 
stream in their prison of ice. He told himself that when 
the spring came he would feel more settled; but when 
on one of his morning rides he came upon the first 
crocus, lifting its golden cup toward the sun, it only 
gave to his pointless restlessness a poisoned barb. In- 
voluntarily his first thought was, “ It would look like 
a spark of fire in the dusk of her hair.” When he 
realized what he had said, he planted the great fore- 
foot of his horse squarely on the innocent thing and 
crushed it back into the earth ; but it had done its work, 
for after that he knew that neither the promise of 
the springtime nor the fullness of the harvest would 
bring him any pleasure, since his eyes must see them 
alone. 


3°9 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ The next time they sing the * Romance of King 
Off a/ before me, I will not hold back my sympathy,” 
he scorned himself, “ for at last I understand how it 
is possible for an elf to lure a man’s reason off its seat 
and leave him a dreaming dolt.” 

Like a new lease of life it came to him when the 
last of the April days brought the long-delayed sum- 
mons to the King. The old cniht, who considered that 
a command to military service could be justified only 
by imminent national destruction, was deeply incensed 
when he learned that the call was to no more than 
an officership in the new body of Royal Guards, but 
the young lord checked him with even a touch of 
impatience. 

“ What a throng of many words, my friend 
Morcard, have you spoken! Did you learn naught 
from the palisade that gave way because churls paid 
me their service when and how they would?” he 
demanded. “ Now let me inform you that I have 
got that lesson by heart, and hereafter no king shall 
have that trouble about me. At sunrise, I ride 
back with the messenger.” And he maintained this 
view so firmly that his face was rather stern as 
he spent the night settling matters of ploughing 
and planting and pasturage with the indignant old 
servitor. 

But the next morning, after he had set forth and 
found how every mile lengthening behind him lightened 
the burden of his depression, a kind of joy rose phoenix- 
like out of the gray ashes of duty. 

310 


PIXIE-LED 


“ If I had continued there, I should have become 
feeble in mind,” he said. “ Now, since I have got out 
of that tomb that she haunts, it may be that I can follow 
my art more lustily.” And suddenly his sternness 
melted into a great warmth, toward the strapping 
soldier riding beside him, toward the pannier-laden 
venders swinging along in their tireless dog-trot, even 
toward the beggar that hobbled out of the ditch to 
waylay him. “ To live out in the world, where you are 
pulled into others’ lives whether you will or no, is the 
best thing to teach people to forget,” he said. “ Soli- 
tude has comfort only for those who have no sorrows, 
for Solitude is the mother of remembrance.” 

He got genuine enjoyment out of the hour that he 
was obliged to sit in the ante-room, waiting to be ad- 
mitted to the King. On one side of him, a group was 
discussing a Danish rebellion that seemed to be some- 
where in progress ; on the other, men were speculating 
on the chances of a Norman invasion, — news of keen- 
est interest was flying thick as bees in June; and 
the coming and going of the red-cloaked warriors, the 
occasional passing of some great noble through the 
throng, stimulated him like wine. 

“ Praise to the Saint who has brought me into a 
life where there are no women ! ” he told himself. 
“Yes! Oh, yes! Here once more I shall rule my 
thoughts like a man.” When a page finally came to 
summon him, he followed with buoyant step and so 
gallant a bearing that more than one turned to look at 
him as he passed. 

3 TI 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Yonder goes the new Marshal,” he heard one say 
to another, and gave the words a fleeting wonder. 

The bare stone hall into which the boy ushered him 
was the same room in which he had had his last audi- 
ence, and now as then the King sat in the great carved 
chair by the chimney-piece, but other things were so 
changed that inside the threshold the Etheling checked 
his swinging stride to gaze incredulously. No soldiers 
were to be seen but the sentinels that had been placed 
beside the doorways, stiff as their gilded pikes, and they 
counted strictly in the class with the ebony footstools 
and other furnishings. The knots of men, scattered 
here and there in buzzing discussion, were all dark- 
robed merchants and white-bearded judges, while 
around the table under the window a dozen shaven- 
headed monks were working busily with writing tools. 
The King himself was no longer armored, but weapon- 
less and clad in velvet. Stopping uncertainly, Sebert 
took from his head the helmet which he had worn, 
soldier fashion, into the presence of his chief, and into 
his salutation crept some of the awe that he had felt 
for Edmund’s kingship, before he knew how weak a 
man held up the crown. 

Certainly Edmund had never received a greeting 
with more of formal dignity than the young Dane did 
now, while Edmund could never have spoken what fol- 
lowed with this grim directness which sent every word 
home like an arrow to its mark. 

“ Lord of Ivarsdale, before I speak further I think 
it wise that we should make plain our minds to each 
312 


PIXIE-LED 


other. Some say that you are apt to be a hard man to 
deal with because you bend to obedience only when 
the command is to your liking. I want to know if this 
is true of you? ” 

Half in surprise, half in embarrassment, the Ethel- 
ing colored high, and his words were some time coming ; 
but when at last they reached his lips, they were as 
frank as Canute’s own. “ Lord King,” he made answer, 
“ that some truth is in what you have heard cannot be 
gainsaid; for a king’s thane I shall never be, to crouch 
at a frown and caper according to his pleasure. What 
service I pay to you, I pay as an odal-man to the State 
for which you stand. Yet I will say this, — that I think 
men will find me less unruly than formerly, for, as I 
have accepted you for my chief, so am I willing to 
render you obedience in any manner soever you think 
right to demand it. This I am ready to swear to.” 

Canute’s fist struck his chair-arm lightly. “Nothing 
more to my mind has occurred for a long time, and 
I welcome it! Better will both of us succeed if we 
declare openly that friendship between us must always 
be rather shallow. I love not men of your nature, — 
neither is it possible for me to forget what you have 
cost me. Hatred would come much easier to me, — and 
I will not deny that you will feel it if ever you give 
me fair cause for anger.” For an instant an edge of 
his Viking savagery made itself felt through his voice ; 
then faded as quickly into cold courtesy. “ As to 
this which I now offer you, however, I think few are 
proud enough to find fault about it, for I have called 

3*3 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


you hither to be a Marshal of the kingdom and to have 
the rule over my Guards. Men from many lands will 
be among them, and it is a great necessity that I have 
at their head a man I can trust, while it is also pleasing 
to the English that that man be an Englishman. Con- 
cerning the laws which I shall make to govern them, 
Eric Jarl will tell you later.” 

“ Marshal ! ” That then was what the mutter in 
the ante-room had meant. Sebert would not have been 
young and a soldier if he had not felt keen delight tingle 
through every nerve. Indeed, his pleasure was so great 
that he dared say little in acknowledgment, lest it 
betray him into too great cordiality toward this stern 
young ruler who, though in reality a year younger than 
he, seemed to have become many years his senior. He 
said shortly, “ If I betray your trust, King Canute, 
let me have no favor! Is it your intention to have me 
make ready now against this incursion of the Normans, 
of which men are — ” 

He did not finish his question, for the King raised 
his hand impatiently. 

“ It is not likely that swords will have any part in 
that matter, Lord Marshal. There is another task in 
store for you than to fight Normans, — and it may be 
that you will think it beneath your rank, for instead of 
the State, it concerns me and my life, which someone 
has tried to take. Yet I expect you will see that my 
death would be little gainful to England.” A second 
curt gesture cut short Sebert’s rather embarrassed pro- 
test. “ Here are no fine words needed. Listen to the 

3i4 


PIXIE-LED 


manner in which the deed was committed. Shortly 
before the end of the winter, it happened that Ulf Jarl 
saw the cook’s scullion pour something into a broth 
that was intended for me to eat. Suspecting evil, he 
forced the fellow instead to swallow it, and the result 
was that, that night, the boy died.” 

The Etheling exclaimed in horror : “ My lord ! 
know you whence he got it? ” 

“ Y ou prove a good guesser to know that it was 
not his crime,” the King said dryly. “ A little while ago, 
I found out that he got it from the British woman who 
is nurse to Elfgiva of Northampton.” 

To this, the new Marshal volunteered no answer 
whatever, but drew his breath in sharply as though he 
found himself in deep water; and the King spoke on. 

“ I did not suspect the Lady of Northampton of 
having evil designs toward me, because — because 
she is more prosperous in every respect while I am 
alive ; and now that belief is proved true, for I am told 
for certain that, the day before the British woman gave 
the boy the liquid, a Danishman gave the British woman 
an herb to make a drink of.” He paused, and his voice 
became slower and much harder, as though he were 
curbing his feelings with iron. “ Since you have heard 
the Norman rumor,” he said, “ it is likely that you have 
heard also of the discontent among the Danes, who 
dislike my judgments ; but in case you have not, I will 
tell you that an abundance of them have betaken them- 
selves to a place in the Middlesex forest where they live 
outlaws, — and their leader is Rothgar Lodbroksson.” 

3*5 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


To motion back a man who was approaching him 
with a paper, he turned away for a moment ; and Sebert 
was glad of the excuse to avoid meeting his glance. 
Not until now had he understood what the judgment 
in his favor had cost the judge, and his heart was sud- 
denly athrob with many emotions. “ In no way is it 
strange that I am hateful to him,” he murmured. “ But 
by Saint Mary, he is of the sort that is worth enduring 
from ! ” He inclined his head in devoted attention as 
the King turned back, lowering his tone to exclude all 
but the man before him. 

“ Even less than I believe it of Elfgiva of North- 
ampton, do I believe it of Rothgar Lodbroksson, that 
he would seek my life. But often that happens which 
one least expects, and it is time that I use forethought 
for myself. Now I know of no man in the world who 
is better able to help my case than you.” 

“I!” the Etheling ejaculated. Suddenly it oc- 
curred to him to suspect that his new-sworn vow of 
obedience was about to be put genuinely to the test, 
and he drew himself up stiffly, facing the King. But 
Canute was tracing idle patterns on the carving of his 
chair-arm. 

“ Listen, Lord of Ivarsdale,” he said quietly. “ It 
is unadvisable for me to stir up further rebellion among 
the Danes by accusing them of things which it is not 
certain they have done, and even though I seized upon 
these women it would not help; while I cannot let the 
matter continue, since one thing after another, worse 
and worse, would be caused by it. The only man who 

3*6 


PIXIE-LED 


can end it, while keeping quiet, is the one who has the 
friendship of the only woman among them to whose 
honor I would risk my life. I mean Randalin, Frode’s 
daughter.” 

Whether or not he heard Sebert’s exclamation, he 
spoke on as though it had not been uttered. “ One thing 
is, that she knows nothing of a plot; for did she so, 
she would have warned me had it compelled her to 
swim the Thames to reach me. But she must be able 
to tell many tidings that we wish to know, with regard 
to the use they make of their jewels, and the Danes 
who visit them, and such matters, which might be got 
from her without letting her suspect that she is telling 
news. Now you are the one person who might do this 
without making any fuss, and it is my will therefore 
that you go to her as soon as you can. Your excuse 
shall be that the Abbot has in his keeping some law- 
parchments which I have the wish to see, but while you 
are there, I want you to renew your friendship with her 
and find out these things for me. By obeying me in 
this, you will give the State help where it is most needed 
and hard to get.” When that was out, he raised his 
head and met the Etheling’s eyes squarely, and it was 
plain to each of them that the moment had come which 
must, once and forever, decide their future relations. 

It was a long time that the Lord of Ivarsdale stood 
there, the pride of his rank, and the prejudice of his 
blood, struggling with his new convictions, his new 
loyalty. But at last he took his eyes from the King’s 
to bow before him in noble submission. 

3i7 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ This is not the way of fighting that I am used to, 
King Canute,” he said, “ and I will not deny that 
I had rather you had set me any other task; but 
neither can I deny that, since you find you have need 
of my wits rather than of my sword, it is with my wits 
that it behooves me to serve you. Tell me clearly what 
is your command, and neither haughtiness nor self-will 
shall hinder me from fulfilling it.” 


3i8 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


WHEN LOVE MEETS LOVE 


Rejoiced at evil 
Be thou never, 

But let good give thee pleasure. 

HAVAMAL. 



RE the time of the 
, the West Minster 
little more than the 
Monastery chapel, in which 
presence of the parish 
if not forbidden, was 
still in no way encouraged. 

o-day, when the Lord of 
Ivarsdale came unnoticed 
the dim light while the 
last strains of the vesper service were rising, there were 
no more than a score of worshippers scattered through 
the north aisle, — a handful of women, wives of the 
Abbot’s military tenants, a trader bound for the land 
beyond the ford, a couple of yeomen and a hollow-eyed 
pilgrim, drifting with the current of his unsteady mind. 
After a searching glance around him, the Etheling took 
up his station in the shelter of a pillar. 

“ Little danger — or hope — is there that I can 
miss her,” he told himself, “if she is indeed here, as 


3 1 9 



THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


the page said. Yet of all the unlikely places to seek 
her ! ” he smiled faintly as the figure in elfin green flitted 
through his mind. As well look for a wood-nymph at 
confession — unless indeed, Elfgiva had taken her there 
against her will — But that was scarcely likely, he 
remembered immediately afterwards, since an English- 
woman who had entered into a civil marriage with a 
Dane would be little apt to frequent an English church. 
“ Doubtless she makes of it a meeting place with 
her newest lover,” he concluded. And the anger the 
thought gave him, and a sense of the helplessness of 
his own position, was so great that he could not remain 
quiet under it but was tortured into moving restlessly 
to and fro in the shadow. 

Tender as the gloaming of a summer day was the 
shade in the great nave, with the ever-burning candles 
to remind one of the eternal stars. Now their quivering 
light called into life, for one brief moment, the golden 
dove that hung above the altar; now it touched with 
dazzling brightness the precious service on the holy 
table itself; again it was veiled by drifting incense as 
by heaven’s clouds. From the throats of the hidden 
choir, the last note swelled rich and full, to roll out 
over the pillared aisles in a wave of vibrant sound and 
pass away in a sigh of ineffable sweetness under the 
rafters. 

As he bowed his head in the holy hush that 
followed, the hush of souls before a wordless bene- 
diction, some of Sebert’s bitterness gave way to a 
great compassion. What were we all, when all was 

3 2 ° 


WHEN LOVE MEETS LOVE 


told, but wrong-doers and mourners? Why should 
one hold anger against another? In pity for himself 
and the whole world, his heart ached within him, as 
a rustling of gowns and a shuffling of feet told that 
the worshippers had risen from their knees and were 
coming toward him. He raised his bowed head sadly, 
fearfully. 

First came the merchant, tugging at his long beard 
as he advanced, — though whether his meditations were 
the leavings of the mood that had held him or a reaching 
forward into the busy future, none could tell. Him, 
Sebert’s eye dismissed with a listless glance. Behind 
the trader came the yeomen, one of them yawning and 
stretching noisily, the other energetically pulling up 
his belt as one tightens the loosened girth on a horse 
that has had an interval of rest. The young noble’s 
glance leaped them completely in its haste to reach 
those who followed, — the knot of women, fluttering 
and rustling and preening like a flock of birds. But 
the bird he sought was not of their number. He stared 
blindly at the pilgrim as the wanderer shuffled past, 
muttering and beating his breast. Only one figure fol- 
lowed the penitent, and if that should not be she! 
Even though he felt that it could not be — even though 
he hoped it was not — hoping and fearing, dreading 
and longing, his eyes advanced to meet the last of the 
worshippers. 

Only one figure, but all at once it was as though 
the whole world were before him! 

Coming slowly toward him out of the soft twilight, 

21 321 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


with eyes downcast and hands folded nun-like before 
her, the daughter of Frode did not look out of place 
amid blue wreaths of incense and starry altar tapers. 
Even her robes were in keeping, gold-weighted as they 
were, for hood and gown and fur-bordered mantle were 
of the deepest heliotrope, that color which bears the 
majesty of sorrow while yet it holds within it the rose- 
tint of gladness. Beneath its tender shadow the dusk 
of her hair became deeper, and her face, robbed by 
winter of its brownness, took on the delicacy of a cameo. 
Ah, what a face it was now, since pain had deepened 
its sweetness and patience had purified its ardor! The 
radiance of a newly-wakened soul was like a halo 
around it. 

Standing there gazing at her, a wonderful change 
came over the Lord of Ivarsdale. Neither then nor 
ever after could he understand how it happened, but, 
all at once, the barrier that circumstances had raised 
against her fell like the city walls before the trumpet 
blast, until not one stone was left standing upon an- 
other. Without knowing how or why, — looking at 
her, he believed in her ; and his manner, which a moment 
before had been constrained and hesitating, became 
easeful with perfect confidence. Without knowing how 
or why he knew it, he knew that she had never squan- 
dered her love on the Jotun, neither had she come here 
to meet any Dane of the host. He knew her for his 
dream-love, sweet and true and fine; and he stepped 
out of the shadow and knelt before her, raising the hem 
of her cloak to his lips. 


322 


WHEN LOVE MEETS LOVE 


“ Most gentle lady, will you give a beggar alms? ” 
he said with tender lightness. 

The sound of his voice was like a stone cast into 
still water. The rapt peace of her look was broken into 
an eddy of conflicting emotions. Amazement was there 
and a swift joy, which gave way almost before it could 
be named to something approaching dread, and that in 
turn yielded place to wide-eyed wonder. With her 
hands clasped tightly over her breast, she stood looking 
down at him. 

“ My lord? ” she faltered. 

As one who spreads out his store, he held out his 
palms toward her. “ Randalin, I have sought you to 
add to the payment of my debt the one thing that in 
my blindness I held back, — I have come to add my 
true love to the rest I lay before you.” 

As a flower toward the sun, she seemed to sway 
toward him, then drew back, her sweet mouth trem- 
bling softly. “ I — I want not your pity,” she said 
brokenly. 

Still kneeling before her, he possessed himself of 
her hands and drew them down to his lips. “ Is it thus, 
on his knee, that one offers pity?” he said. Holding 
the hands fast, he rose and stood before her. “ Heart 
beloved oi my heart, you were merciless to read the 
truth before. Look again, and take care that you read 
me as fairly now.” 

Despite his gentleness, there was a strength in 
his exaltation which would not be resisted. Turning 
shrinkingly, she looked into his eyes. 

323 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


In the gray-blue depths of her own he saw the 
shimmer of a dawning light, as when the evening star 
first breaks through a June sky, and gradually the star- 
splendor spread over her face, until it touched her 
parted lips. 

“You — love me — ” she breathed, but her voice 
no longer made it a question. 

Still gazing into his eyes, she let him draw her 
closer and closer, till he had gathered her to his breast. 



324 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE RING OF THE COILED SNAKE 


He is happy 
Who for himself obtains 
Fame and kind words ; 
Less sure is that 
Which a man must have 
In another’s breast. 


HAVAMAL. 



|HE murmur of the rain that 
I was falling gently on the 


/^budding roses of the Abbey 
garden stole in through the 
open windows of Elfgiva’s 
bower and blended softly 
with the music of Candida’s 
lyre. Poring over the dingy 
scrolls spread out on the 
table before her, the Lady 


of Northampton yawned until she was moved to throw 
herself back among her cushions with a gesture of 
graceful surrender. 

‘ “ It seems that the Saints are going to take pity 
on me and shorten one of these endless days with a 
nap. Nurse, have a care for these scrolls. And if it 
happen that the King’s Marshal comes — Randalin! 
Where is Randalin? ” 


325 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Beyond Leonorine’s embroidery frame and the 
stool where Candida bent over her lyre, the length of 
the room away, a figure in iris-blue turned from the 
window by which it stood. 

“ Here, lady. What is your need?” 

To place the speaker Elfgiva raised her head 
slightly, laughing as she let it sink back. “ Watching 
for him already, and the sun but little past noon? For 
shame, moppet! Come here.” 

“ So please you, I was watching the rain on the 
roses,” Randalin excused herself with a blush as she 
came forward. 

A merry chorus mocked her : “ Is it to watch the 
roses that you have put on the gown which matches 
your eyes, you sly one?” . . . “And the lilies in your 
hair, sweet? Is it to shelter them from the rain that 
you wear them?” . . . “Fie, Tata! Can you not fib 
yet without changing color? ” 

But Elfgiva raised an impatient hand. “ Peace, 
chatterers ! ” she commanded ; and drawing the girl to 
her, she spoke low and earnestly in her ear. 

Randalin looked up in surprise. “You will not 
see him, lady? Not though he bring news of the doings 
in the Palace? ” 

“ Heaven’s mercy ! ” Elfgiva shrugged with a touch 
of scorn. “ What abundance of news he has found to 
bring since the day he fell in with you at even-song ! ” 
Then she consented to smile faintly as she settled her 
head among the cushions. “ I would rather sleep, child. 
Comfort him as best you can, — only not so well that 

326 


THE RING OF THE COILED SNAKE 


you forget that which I enjoined you. If he fail us, 
I cannot tell what we shall do, — now that the second 
scullion has been so foolish as to get himself killed in 
some way. Where bear you the ring?” 

The girl touched the spot where the gold chain that 
encircled her neck crept into the breast of her gown. 
The lady shook her head. 

“ Never would you think of it again. Take it out 
and wear it on your finger.” 

As she obeyed, Randalin laughed a little, for the 
ring was a man’s ring, a massive spiral whose two ends 
were finished with serpents’ heads, and her thickest 
finger was but a loose fit in its girth. But Elfgiva, 
when she had seen it on, closed her eyes with an air 
of satisfaction. 

“ To keep from losing it, will keep it in your mind,” 
she said. “ Now leave me. Candida, — more softly ! 
And see to it that you do not stop the moment my eyes 
are closing. Leonorine, why are you industrious in 
singing only when it is not required of you? . . . That 
is better. . . . Let no one wake me.” 

They drew silence around her like a curtain 
through whose silken web the blended voices of rain 
and lyre and singer crept in soothing melody. To 
escape its ensnaring folds, Randalin stole back to the 
distant window beneath which Dearwyn sat on a little 
bench, weaving clover blossoms into a chain. 

The little gentlewoman looked up with her soft 
pretty smile. “ How mysterious you are, you two ! ” 
she whispered, as she swept the mass of rosy bloom to 

327 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


the floor to make room for her friend. “ What with 
Teboen always seething ill-smelling herbs and — Tata, 
I pray you to tell who has gifted you with such a 
monster? ” 

Waving the ring where the light might catch the 
serpents’ eyes, Randalin pursed her lips with so much 
mystery that her friend was tempted to catch the hand 
and hold it prisoner while she examined the ornament. 
After one look, however, she let it fall with an expres- 
sion of awe upon her dimpled face. 

“ The ring Canute gave Elfgiva — that he won 
from the giant Rothgar? Heaven forbid that I should 
press upon her secrets! My ears tingle yet from the 
cuff I got only for looking at yonder dirty scroll. Yet 
how long is it since you were taken into their councils, 
Tata? Yesterday you were no better able than I to 
say how things were with her.” 

“How long?” Randalin repeated dreamily. Her 
gaze had gone back again to the rain, falling so softly 
that every pool in the sodden paths seemed to be full 
of lazily winking eyes. “ Oh, there are many good 
chances that he will be here soon now. He is seldom 
later than the third hour after noon.” 

After a bewildered gasp, Dearwyn stifled a burst 
of laughter in her garlands. “ Oh, Tata, come to earth !” 
she admonished. “ Come to earth ! ” And scooping 
up a handful of the fragrant bloom, she pelted the 
dreamer with rosy balls. 

Shaking them from robe and clustering hair, Ran- 
dalin turned back, smiling. But her lips sobered almost 

328 


THE RING OF THE COILED SNAKE 


to wistfulness as she sank down upon the seat beside 
her friend. “ It seems that I must do that against my 
will,” she said. “ Dearwyn, do you get afraid when you 
are happy? Sometimes, when I stand here watching 
for him and think how different all has happened from 
what I supposed, I am so happy,” — she paused, and it 
was as though the sun had caught the iris flowers in her 
eyes, until a cloud came between and the blue petals 
purpled darkly — “so happy that it causes fear to me, lest 
it be no more than a dream or in some way not true.” 

Her cheek, as she ended, was softly pale, but Dear- 
wyn brushed it pink with sweeps of the long-stemmed 
blossom in her hand. 

“ Sweet, it is the waxing of the moon. I pray you 
be blithe in your spirits. Small wonder your lover 
bears himself as gravely as a stone man on a tomb if 
you talk such — ” 

“ Dearwyn, the same thought has overtaken us 
both ! ” Randalin broke in anxiously, and now she was 
all awake and staying the other’s busy fingers to ensure 
her attention. “ Not a few times it has seemed to me 
that he looks weary of heart, as though some struggle 
were sapping his strength. He swears it is not so, 
yet I think the rebellion of his pride against king- 
serving — ” 

“ If you want to know my belief, it is that he carries 
trouble in his breast about you,” Dearwyn interrupted. 

“ About me? ” So much hurt surprise was in Ran- 
dalin’s manner that the little maid begged forgiveness 
with caresses of the swaying clover. / 

329 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Be not vexed, honey, but in truth he is overcome 
by the oddest look whensoever he watches you without 
your seeing, — as though he were not sure of you, in 
some way, and yet — Oh, I cannot explain it! Only 
tell me this, — does he not ask you, many times and oft, 
if you love him, or if others love you, or such like?” 

In the midst of shaking her head, Randalin paused 
and her mouth became as round as her eyes. “ Fool- 
ishly do I recall it ! As if he would ! And yet — Dear- 
wyn, he has asked me four times if any Danes visit 
us here. Would you think that he could be — ” 

“Jealous?” Dearwyn dropped her flowers to clap 
her hands softly. “ Tata, I have guessed his distemper 
rightly. Let no one say that I am not a witch for 
cleverness! Ah, you can have the best fun that ever 
any maid could have! If you could but make him 
believe something about that Danishman that Teboen 
saw last winter ! ” 

“Last winter?” Randalin repeated. “Oh! I had 
altogether forgotten him. It seems that it has not been 
truthfully spoken when — ” 

The little Angle smothered the rest in her rap- 
turous embrace. “ The ring, Tata, — that would be the 
cream of all! Let him think that Rothgar gave it to 
you, that he is your lover ! I would give many kirtles 
to see his face.” 

“ Rothgar? ” Randalin’s voice was light with scorn. 
“ As likely would I be to think him love-struck for the 
serving-wench who sparkled her eyes at him, as he to 
think that Rothgar Lodbroksson could count for aught 

330 


THE RING OF THE COILED SNAKE 


with me! Yet I say nothing against the fun it would 
be. It may be that if he take notice of the thing and 
question me — just to see how he would look — ” She 
broke off discreetly, but the one elf which the Abbot 
had not exorcised crept out and danced in the dimple 
of her cheek. 

Dearwyn shook her floral rod with an assumption 
of severity. “ I trust he will be sorely disquieted,” she 
said. “ He deserves no otherwise for his behavior last 
winter. Are you so soft of heart, Tata, that you are 
never going to reckon with him for that?” 

The dimple-elf took wing and all the mischief in 
the girl’s eyes seemed to go with him. “ Those days 
are buried,” she said. “ Let the earth grow green above 
them.” And suddenly she leaned forward and hid her 
face on the other’s shoulder. “ Bring them not before 
me, Dearwyn, my friend, until I am a little surer of my 
happiness. It is so new yet, Dearwyn, so new! And 
it came to me so suddenly that sometimes it almost 
seems as if it might depart as suddenly from me.” A 
while they nestled together without speaking, the little 
maid’s cheek resting lovingly on her friend’s dark hair. 

It was a page thrusting aside the arras that broke 
the spell. Opening his mouth to make a flourishing 
announcement, the words were checked on his tongue 
by four white hands motioning stern commands for 
silence. 

“ It is the King’s Marshal,” he framed with protest- 
ing lips. But even that failed to gain him admittance. 

Rising, flushed and smiling, the girl with the blue 
33 * 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


lilies in her hair tiptoed toward him. “ I have orders to 
receive the Marshal,” she whispered. “ Where is he?” 

“ He is in the Old Room,” the page answered rather 
resentfully, but resigned himself as he remembered 
that, however this curtailed his importance, it left open 
a prompter return to his game of leap-frog along the 
passage. 

In all probability his nimble departure saved him 
from a scolding for, as she tripped after him down the 
corridor, a little frown was forming between Randalin’s 
brows. “ I think it is not well-mannered of the fellow 
to say ‘ the King’s Marshal ’ as though my lord were 
Canute’s thane,” she was reflecting, “ and I shall put an 
end to it. Whatever others say, one never needs to tell 
me that Sebert is not suffering in his service.” 

With this thought in her mind, she raised the moth- 
eaten tapestry and stood looking at him with a face full 
of generous indignation. Except for the noble’s em- 
broidered belt and gold-hilted sword, his dress now 
differed in no way from that of the hundreds and hun- 
dreds of red-cloaked guards who were spread over the 
country like sparks after a conflagration. As he turned 
at the end of the beat he was pacing and came slowly 
toward her, she could see that in its gravity his face 
was as soldier-like as his clothes. Always she found it 
so when she came upon him unawares; and always, 
when she spoke to him — She held her breath as his 
eyes rose to her, and let it go with a little sigh of 
happiness as she saw gloom drop from him like a mask 
at the sight of her. 


332 


THE RING OF THE COILED SNAKE 


“ Randalin ! ” he cried joyously, and made a step 
toward her, then stopped to laugh in gay wonder. 
“ Now no poet would call you ‘ a weaver of peace ’ as 
you stand there, for you look rather like an elf of battle. 
What is it, my raven? ” 

Her lips smiled back at him, but a mist was over her 
eyes. “ It is your King that I am angry with, lord. He 
is not worthy that a man like you should serve him.” 

Moving toward her again, he held himself a little 
straighten “ I serve not the King, dear heart,” he said 
gently, “ but the State of England, in whose service the 
highest is none too good to bend.” 

She yielded him her hands but not her point. 
“ That does not change the fact that it is his overbear- 
ingness which makes your path as though you trod on 
nettles, — for certainly I know it is so, though you will 
not say it ! ” 

Neither would he admit it now, but laughed lightly 
as he drew her to him. “ Now may he not give me 
thorns who gives me also the sweetest rose in his king- 
dom? I tell you he is the kingliest king ever I had to 
deal with, and the chief I would soonest trust England 
to. Be no Danish rebel, shield-maiden, or as the King’s 
officer I will mulct your lips for every word of treason.” 

She showed no rebellion against his authority, at all 
events ; and her hands remained in his clasp until of his 
own accord he opened his fingers with an exclamation. 

“ Do you wear bracelets for rings, my fair, or what? 
What I” From the monstrous bauble in his palm, he 
raised his eyes to hers, and if she had seen their look 

333 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


she might have answered differently. But her gaze 
was still on the ring; and as she felt him start, that 
impish dimple peeped out of her cheek. 

“ Is it not a handsome thing? ” she said. “ It looks 
to be a ring to belong to a giant.” 

“ Is it — Rothgar’s?” 

The dimple deepened as she heard his tone. For 
all its absurdity, there must be some truth in Dearwyn’s 
witch-skill. She was obliged to droop her lashes very 
low to hide the mischief in her eyes. “ It is not his 
now,” she murmured. “ It has been given me — to keep 
me in mind of something.” But after that her amuse- 
ment grew too strong to be repressed, and she looked 
up at him with over-brimming laughter. “ There will 
soon be too much of this! Sweetheart mine, are you 
in truth so easy to plague?” 

Laughing she looked up at him, but, even as 
his face was clearing, something in it struck her so 
strangely that her laughter died and she bent toward 
him in sudden gravity. “ Lord ! It is not possible for 
you to believe that I could love Rothgar ! ” Her manner 
of uttering that one word made it speak more scorn 
than volumes might have done. 

For a while he only looked at her, that strange 
radiance growing in his face; but suddenly he caught 
her to him and kissed her so passionately that he 
hurt her, and his voice was as passionate as his 
caress. “ No,” he told her over and over. “ Would 
I have offered you my love had I believed that? No! 
No!” 


334 


THE RING OF THE COILED SNAKE 


Satisfied, she made no more resistance but clung to 
him with her arms as she had clung to him with her 
heart since the first hour he came into her life. Only, 
when at last he released her, she took the ring from her 
finger and thrust it into his hand with a little gesture 
of distaste. “ I shall be thankful if I do not have to see 
it again. It is Elfgiva’s, that Canute gave her after he 
had won it from Rothgar in some wager. It is her wish 
that you bring it to the King again by slipping it into 
his broth or his wine where he will come upon it after 
he has finished feeding and is therefore amiable — ” 
She stopped to laugh merrily in his face. “ See how the 
very naming of the King turns you grave again ! When 
one gets a Marshalship, one becomes more and more 
stark.” Grown mischievous again in her happiness, she 
mocked him with courtesies. 

But it was only very faintly that he smiled at her 
fooling, as he held the spiral against the light and shook 
it beside his ear. “ Is there no more to the message,” 
he said slowly. “ Am I to know nothing of her object? 
Or why I am chosen of all others? ” 

“ Easy is it to tell that,” she laughed. “ You were 
not chosen without a reason, and that is because no one 
else is to be had, since the scullion who formerly served 
her has gotten himself killed in some way and the man 
who stepped into his shoes, out of some spite, has re- 
fused Teboen’s gold. And as for her object — I wonder 
at you, lord of my heart ! What kind of a lover are you 
that you cannot guess that?” Feigning to flout him, 
she drew away; then feigning to relent, turned back 

335 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


and laughed it into his ear. “It is a love-token! To 
hold him to the fair promises he made at its giving, 
and to remind him of her, and to win her a crown, and 
to do so many strange wonders that no tongue can 
number them! Are you not ashamed to have failed on 
so easy a riddle ? ” 

To her surprise, his gravity deepened almost to 
horror. “ Love-token ! ” he repeated ; and suddenly he 
laid his hands on her shoulders and forced her gently 
to give him eye for eye. “ Randalin, if I comply with 
you in this matter, will you answer me a question? 
Answer with such care as though your life — nay, as 
though my life depended on it? ” 

“Willingly; more than one,” she consented; but 
forgot to wait for it as a memory, wakened by his words, 
stirred in her. “ Now it is time for me to remember 
that there is one thing I have not been altogether truth- 
ful about, through forgetting, — about the Danes we 
have seen. I recall now that last winter Teboen often 
saw one when she was gathering herbs in the wood. 
She spoke with him of the magic things she brews to 
make Elfgiva sleep, and he gave her herbs which she 
thought so useful that she has been fretful because she 
has not seen him since — ” 

Unconsciously, the young soldier’s hands tightened 
on her shoulders until she winced. “ You know with 
certainty that she has never seen him since?” he de- 
manded, — “that Danes had naught to do with the 
last token Elfgiva sent through the scullion? You can 
swear to it? ” 


336 


THE RING OF THE COILED SNAKE 


“ Certainly, if they speak the truth, I know it,” she 
answered wonderingly. “ How should Danes — why, 
Sebert, what ails you? ” 

For he had let go her shoulders as abruptly as he 
had seized them, and walked away to the window that 
looked out upon the rain-washed garden. After a mo- 
ment’s hesitation, she stole after him. “ Sebert, my love, 
what is it? Trouble is in your mind, there is little use 
to deny it. Dearwyn says it concerns me, but I know 
that it is no less than the King. Dear one, it seems 
strange that you cannot disclose your mind to me as 
well as to — Fridtjof.” 

It was the first time, in their brief meetings to- 
gether, that she had spoken that name, and his smile 
answered. Even while his lips admitted a trouble, his 
manner put it aside. “ You are right that it concerns 
the King, my elf. Sometimes the work he assigns me 
is neither easy nor pleasant to accomplish. Yet with- 
out any blame to him, most warlike maiden, for — ” 

But she would not be prevented from saying stern 
things of her royal guardian, so at last he let her finish 
the subject, and stood pressing her hands upon his 
breast, his eyes resting dreamily on her face. 

When she had finished, he said slowly, “ Sweeting, 
because my mind is laboring under so many burdens 
that my wits are even duller than they are wont, will 
you not have the patience to answer one question that 
is not clear to me? Do you think it troublesome to tell 
me why it was that you said, that day in the garden — 
Now shake off that look, dearest; never will we speak 

22 337 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


of it again if it is not to your wish! Tell me what you 
meant by saying that you came into Canute’s camp 
because you had too much faith in Rothgar, if you 
despise him — since you despise him so?” 

Her eyes met his wonderingly. “ By no means 
could I have said that, lord. When I left home, I knew 
not that Rothgar lived. The one in whom I had too 
much faith was the King. Because I was young and 
little experienced, I thought him a god; and when I 
came to his camp and found him a man, I thought 
only to escape from him. That was why I wore those 
clothes, Sebert — not because I liked so wild a life. 
That is clear to you, is it not?” 

He did not appear to hear her last words at all. 
He was repeating over and over, “ The King, the 
King ! ” Suddenly he said, “ Then I got that right, 
that it was he who summoned me to Gloucester to 
make sure that you had kept your secret from me also? 
— that he was angry with you for deceiving him?” 

“ Yes,” she said. But as he opened his lips to put 
another question, she laid her finger-tip beseechingly 
upon them, “ Sebert, my love, I beg of you let us talk 
no more of those days. Sometime, when we have a long 
time to be together, I will tell you everything that I 
have had in my breast and you shall show me every- 
thing that you have had in yours, but — but let us 
wait, sweetheart, until our happiness seems more real 
than our sorrow. Even yet I do not like the thought 
of the ‘ sun-browned boy-bred wench.’ ” She laughed 
a little unsteadily at the sudden crimsoning of his 

338 


THE RING OF THE COILED SNAKE 


face. “ And I am still ashamed — and ashamed of being 
ashamed — that I showed you so plainly what my heart 
held for you . . . Elfgiva’s tongue has stabbed me sore 
. . . Beloved, can you not be content, for now, with 
knowing that I have loved no man before you and shall 
love none after you? ” 

Bending, he kissed her lips with the utmost ten- 
derness. “ I am well content,” he said. And after that 
they spoke only of the future, when the first period of 
his Marshalship should be over and he should be free 
to take his bride back to the fields and woods of Ivars- 
dale, and the gray old Tower on the hill. 


339 


CHAPTER XXX 


WHEN THE KING TAKES A QUEEN 

Moderately wise 
Should each one be, 

But never over-wise ; 

For a wise man’s heart 
Is seldom glad 
If he is all-wise who owns it. 

HAVAMAL. 

UT under the garden’s 
spreading fruit trees, the 
little gentlewomen of Elf- 
giva’s household were amus- 
ing themselves with the 1 
flock of peacocks that were 
the Abbey’s pets. In a shift- 
ing dazzling mass of color — 
blended blue and green and 
golden fire — all but one of 
the brilliant birds were pressing around Candida, who 
scattered largess from a quaint bronze vase, while the 
one whose vanity was greater even than its appetite 
was furnishing sport for Dearwyn as she strutted after 
him in merry mimicry, lifting her satin-shod feet minc- 
ingly and trailing her rosy robes far behind her on the 
grass. The old cellarer, to whose care the birds fell 

34o 




WHEN THE KING TAKES A QUEEN 

except during those hours when the brethren were free 
for such indulgences, watched the scene in grinning 
delight ; and Leonorine laughed gaily at them over the 
armful of tiny bobbing lap-dogs, whose valiant charges 
she was engaged in restraining. The only person who 
seemed out of tune with the chiming mirth was the 
Lady Elfgiva herself. Among the blooming bushes she 
was moving listlessly and yet restlessly, and each rose 
she plucked was speedily pulled to pieces in her nervous 
fingers. A particularly furious outburst from the dogs, 
followed by peals of ringing laughter, brought her foot 
down in a stamp of utter exasperation. 

“ Will you not observe my feelings, if you have 
none of your own? ” she demanded. “Leonorine, take 
those wretched dogs out of my hearing. Dearwyn, lay 
aside your nonsense and go ask Gurth if he has heard 
anything yet of Teboen.” She stamped again, angrily, 
as her eye went from one to another of the merry- 
makers. “ I suppose it would gladden all of you to 
feel safe from her hand, but I will plainly tell ybu that 
if harm has happened to her, you will find a lair-bear 
pleasanter company than I shall be.” 

The dull red that mottled her face and neck was a 
danger signal whose warning her attendants had learned 
to heed, and they scattered precipitately. Only the old 
cellarer, herding his gorgeous flock with waving arms, 
ventured to address her. 

“ Is it the British woman you are enquiring after, 
lady? The woman who comes to the lane-gate, of a 
morning, to get new milk for your drinking? ” 

34i 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Elfgiva turned quickly. “ Yes, — Teboen my nurse. 
Have you seen her? ” 

“ I saw her between cockcrowing and dawn, noble 
one, when I let down the bars for the cattle to come in 
to the milking. The herd-boy who drives them said 
something to her, — it seemed to me that he named a 
Danish name and said that person was waiting in the 
wood to speak with her, — whereat she set down her 
pitcher and went up the lane. I have not seen her 
since.” 

The lady’s little white hands beat the air like a 
frightened child’s. “ Three candles have burned out 
since then; it is certain that evil has befallen her. 
Never since I was born has she left me for so long. 
I — ” She paused to gaze eagerly toward a figure that 
at this moment appeared in the low arch of the door- 
way. “ Tata! do you bring me news of her? ” 

Though she shook her head, Randalin’s manner 
was full of suppressed excitement as she advanced. 
“Not of her, lady, yet tidings, great tidings! The 
King has sent — ” 

“ His Marshal again? I will not see him.” 

“ Nay, the Marshal but accompanies the messen- 
ger. In truth, lady, it is my belief that the token has 
accomplished its mission. The message is brought by 
Thorkel Jarl, as this has not been done before.” 

“Earl Thorkel?” Elfgiva cried. “By the Saints, 
it can be nothing less than the token ! ” She dropped 
down upon the rustic seat that stood under the green 
canopy of the old apple tree and sat there a long time, 

342 


WHEN THE KING TAKES A QUEEN 

staring at the grass, her cheeks paling and flushing by 
turns. Presently, she drew a deep breath of relief. “ I 
was foolish to fret myself over Teboen. Since she is 
clever enough to bring this to pass, she is clever enough 
to take care of herself. Without doubt it was the 
Danish wizard, and he informed her of some new herb, 
and she has gone to fetch it.” 

After a while, an enchanting smile touched her lips. 
“ Surely, a rose garden is a fitting place to receive the 
ambassadors of a lover,” she said, and straightened 
herself on her rustic throne, sweeping her draperies 
into more graceful folds. “ Bring them to me here, 
ladybird. Candida, fetch hither the lace veil from my 
bower, and call the other maids as you go, and all the 
pages you can find. Since Teboen is not by, I want 
all of you behind me. I cannot help it that the Tall 
One always gives me the feeling of a lamb before a 
wolf.” 

Even had the likeness never occurred to her before, 
it would not have been strange if she had thought of it 
to-day as, followed by the Marshal and preceded by 
their fair usher, the old warrior came across the grass 
to the little court under the apple tree. The keenness 
of the hooded eyes that looked out at her from his 
grizzled locks, the gleam of the white teeth between his 
bearded lips as he greeted her, was unmistakably wolf- 
ish. She relapsed into a kind of lamb-like tremor as she 
invited them to be seated and commanded the attend- 
ance of her cup-bearer. When she caught sight of the 
misery of discomfort in Sebert’s frank face, she lost 

343 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


her voice entirely and waited in utter silence while 
they drank their wine. 

Yet Thorkel’s manner was unwontedly genial when 
at last he broached his errand. “ You lack the eagerness 
that is to be expected, lady,” he said as he gave his 
mouth a last polish with the delicate napkin. “ How 
comes it that you have not guessed I bring you a mes- 
sage from the King? ” 

She answered doubtfully that the King had not 
behaved to her so that his messages were apt to be an- 
ticipated with much pleasure. 

“ But it has never occurred that I brought you this 
kind of news before,” he tempted her. “ Will it not 
interest you to hear that at last the Palace is ready for 
a Queen? ” 

That startled her a little out of her wariness, crying 
the last two words after him with an eagerness of in- 
flection that was as pathetic as though her heart were 
concerned. 

His lips gave out a flash as he nodded. “ A Queen. 
Canute is going to give the Angles a ‘ gift of the elves/ ” 

For an instant, she was betrayed into believing him, 
and bent forward, her flushing face transfigured with 
delight. She was starting to speak when the Etheling 
rose abruptly from his seat. 

“ Lord Thorkel,” he said angrily, “ this cat-play 
would bring you little thanks from your King, nor will 
I longer endure it. I pray you to explain without delay 
that the name of ‘ Elfgiva ’ is borne also by Emma of 
Normandy.” 


344 


WHEN THE KING TAKES A QUEEN 

Then the old man snarled as a wolf does whose 
bone has been seized. “ Lord of Ivarsdale, you act in 
the thoughtless way of youth. I was bringing the 
matter gently — ” 

But the young man accomplished his purpose in 
spite of the elder. He did not address the King’s wife 
— indeed, he refrained even from looking at her — but 
he spoke swiftly to the dark-haired girl who stood 
beside the seat. “ Randalin, I beg you to tell your lady 
that Elfgiva Emma, who is Ethelred’s widow and the 
Lady of Normandy, arrives at Dover to-morrow to be 
made Queen of the English.” 

As all expected, the Lady of Northampton started 
up shrieking defiance, screaming that it should not be 
so, that the King was her husband and the soldiers 
would support her if the monks would not, that he was 
hers, hers, — and more to that effect, until the plunging 
words ran into each other and tears and laughter blotted 
out the last semblance of speech. That she would end 
by swooning or attacking them with her hands those 
who knew her best felt sure, and maids and pages crept 
out of her reach as hunters stand off from a wounded 
boar. But at the point where her voice gave out and 
she whirled to do one or perhaps both of these, her eyes 
fell on the house-door, and her expression changed from 
rage to amazement and from amazement to horror. 
Catching Randalin’s arm in fear, not anger, she began 
to gasp over and over the name of Teboen the nurse. 

Those whose glance had not followed hers, thought 
her mad and shrank farther ; but the eyes of those who 

345 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


saw what she did reflected her look. In the doorway 
the British woman was standing, wagging her head in 
time to a silly quavering song that she was singing with 
lips so distorted as to be almost unrecognizable. Her 
once florid face was ashen gray, and now as she quitted 
the door post and came toward them she reeled in her 
walk, stumbling over stones and groping blindly with 
her huge bony hands. But still she kept on singing, 
with twisted lips that strove to simper, and once she 
tried to sway her ungainly body into an uncouth 
dancing-step that brought her floundering to her knees. 

“ A devil has possession of her,” Elfgiva shrieked. 
“ Take her out of my sight, or I shall go mad ! Take 
her away — take her away ! ” Shrieking in wildest 
terror she fled before her, and for a moment the garden 
seemed given over to a grotesque game of blind-man’s 
buff as women and boys scattered with renewed scream- 
ing at each approach of the ghastly face. It did not 
stop until the two soldiers who had been made keepers 
of the wretched creature came running out of the house 
and led her away. 

Then it was Thorkel’s sardonic voice that brought 
the Lady of Northampton back to herself. “ Now, is 
this how you take the sight of your own handiwork? 
Or is it because you regret that the King is not in this 
plight? One mouthful and no more has she had of the 
blood of the coiled snake.” 

Stopping where she was, Elfgiva gazed at him, and 
with a dawning comprehension came back her inter- 
rupted fury. “ The coiled snake,” she repeated slowly ; 

346 


WHEN THE KING TAKES A QUEEN 

and after that, in a rush of words, “ Then it was you 
who enticed her away and mistreated her? But what 
does it concern you that I sent a snake? Where saw 
you it? How knew you it had blood? ” Without wait- 
ing for an answer, she turned upon the Marshal, her 
lids contracted into narrow slits behind which her eyes 
raged like prisoned animals. “ It is you who are to 
blame for this ! You who miscarried my message. You 
have betrayed me, and. I tell you — ” Hysterical tears 
broke her voice, but she pieced it together with her 
temper and went on telling him all the bitter things she 
could think of, while he stood before her in the grim 
silence of one who has long foreseen the disagreeable 
aspects of his undertaking and made up his mind to 
endurance. 

When she stopped for breath, he said steadily, “ I 
declare with truth that you cannot dislike what I have 
done much more than I, Lady of Northampton. I hope 
it will be an excuse with you, as it is a comfort to me, 
that instead of fetching you into trouble — ” 

Thorkel took the words from his lips, and no longer 
with sinister deliberation but with a ferocity that 
showed itself in the gathering swiftness of his speech. 
“ Trouble — yes ! By the Hammer of Thor, I think you 
deserve to have trouble! Had any of your witches* 
brew done harm to the King, I can tell you that you 
would not have lived much longer. What! Are the 
plans of men to be upset by your baby face, and a king- 
dom lost because a little fool chooses to play with 
poison as a child with fire?” 

347 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Poison? ” she screamed. She had been facing him 
with whitening lips, and now the little breath that she 
had left went from her in a sharp cry. “ Not poison ; 
love-philtres ! To win him back ! Love-philtres, — can 
you not hear? ” 

“ Love-philtres ! ” The old warrior’s voice made 
the words bite with contempt. “ Did the mouthful 
she swallowed have that effect upon your woman? 
Or do you think you planted love in the breasts 
of the dead scullions? Had you seen their writh- 
ings I think you would have called it by another 
name.” 

He was standing over her now, and she was cower- 
ing before him, her shaking hands rising as though to 
ward off his eyes. “ I meant no harm,” she was wail- 
ing with stiff lips. “ The scroll said not a word that it 
was hurtful. Do not kill me. I meant no — ” The 
word ended in an inarticulate sound and she swayed 
backward. 

It was Randalin who caught and eased her down 
upon the rustic chair, and Randalin who turned upon 
the Tall One. “ Saw I never a meaner man ! ” she cried. 
“ Certainly I think Loke was less wolf-minded than you. 
You know very well that if Teboen had thought it 
would become a cause of harm to her, she would have 
refused to swallow it. I will go to the King myself and 
tell him how despisable you are.” She stamped her foot 
at the united ministry of the Kingdom as she turned 
her back upon its representatives to speak reassuringly 
to her mistress. 


348 


WHEN THE KING TAKES A QUEEN 

Her lover did not blame her that her flashing eyes 
seemed to include him among the objects of their wrath. 
He said fiercely to the Jarl, “ For God’s sake, tell her 
that no one suspects her of seeking his life, and give 
her his true message, or I will go and hang myself for 
loathing.” 

“ Tell her yourself ! ” the old Dane snapped. “ It 
is seen that you are as rabbit-hearted as the boy who 
makes her such an offer. Were I in his place, I would 
have them all drowned for a litter of wauling kittens.” 
He looked very much indeed like a wolf in a sheepfold 
as he stamped to and fro, grinding his spurred heels 
into the patches of clover and growling in his beard. 

The young soldier had been known to ride into 
battle with a happier face, but the sudden gritting of 
his teeth implied that he would do anything to get the 
matter over with; and having braved the outburst of 
hysterics that redoubled at his approach, he managed 
to slip a soothing word into the lull. 

“ Lady, the King sends you none but good greet- 
ings. It would make you feel better if you would listen 
to them.” 

“ Then he — he does not blame me for this? ” Elf- 
giva quavered at last. 

“ He does not blame you,” the Marshal hastened to 
reassure her. “ And in token thereof he sends you 
your heart’s desire.” 

Plainly, the elves had endowed their “ gift ” with a 
wit to match her soul. Her beautiful eyes were simple 
as an injured child’s as she raised them to his. “ How 

349 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


can that be, lord, when Emma of Normandy is to get 
the crown of England? A woman ten years older 
than he, to put the best face on it! Who can expect 
me to bear with this insult?” Her scorn went so far 
toward reviving her that for the first time she drew 
herself away from the support of her women, and even 
made one of them a sign to rearrange the locks she had 
disturbed. 

Lest it revive her beyond the point of docility, 
Sebert spoke the rest of his message in some haste. “ It 
is true, noble one, that for state reasons the King has 
consented to this union with Emma of Normandy, who 
will bring him the friendship of Duke Richard besides 
causing pleasure to the English. But the crown of 
Denmark is also at his disposal, lady, and this he pur- 
poses to bestow upon your son Sven, for whom he 
has much love. And it is his will and pleasure that you 
accompany the boy across the sea and, together with 
the earls of his guardianship, hold the power for him 
until his hands shall be big enough to grasp it alone. 
For this he gives you the name of ‘ queen * and all the 
honor you shall desire.” He paused, more at the 
wonder of watching her face than because he had 
finished. 

It was as though a rainbow had been set in her 
showery eyes. “ He purposes this?” she murmured; 
and rose out of her seat in a kind of ecstasy, — then 
caught at its back, glooming with doubt. “ I cannot 
believe it, — it is too beautiful. Swear that you are 
not mocking me.” 


3So 


WHEN THE KING TAKES A QUEEN 

“ I swear it,” he said gravely, but his lips curled 
a little as he watched her delight bring back her color, 
her smiles, her every fairy charm. 

Throwing her arms about Dearwyn, who chanced 
to be nearest, she kissed her repeatedly. “ Think, 
mouse, — a queen! a queen! It was not for naught 
that I dreamed an eagle flew over my head. Ah, how 
I shall cherish the dear little one who has brought me 
this ! ” With her pleasure overflowing as of old in 
rippling laughter, she turned to greet the King’s foster- 
father who came stalking toward her. “ Now your ill 
humor no longer appears strange to me, noble wolf, — 
than which no better proof could be had that I have 
come into good fortune! I pray you tell me when I 
am to leave, and who goes with me, and every word 
of the plan, for I could eat them like sweets.” 

“ Ulf Jarl will feed your ears later,” Thorkel said 
gruffly. “ Your safety on the road is the charge of this 
battle-sapling.” He jerked his head toward the young 
Marshal. “ You will leave for Northampton this after- 
noon, to get the boy — and to get rid of you before the 
Lady of Normandy arrives.” 

The shaft fell pointless as she turned her sparkling 
face toward her women. “You hear that, my lambs? 
This afternoon, — not one more night in this prison! 
You cannot apply yourselves too soon to the packing, 
Candida, Leonorine. And I must see if Teboen’s wits 
have come back to her. If she should not be restored 
to them, that would be one bee in the honey. Randalin, 
learn what disposal is to be made of you, and that, 

35i 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


quickly. Nobles, if I am not yet enough queen to dis- 
miss you, still am I queen enough to depart without 
your leave. I desire you will thank your King as is 
becoming ; and tell him that I am right glad he was not 
poisoned, — and I trust he will not wish he had been, 
after he has seen his ancient bride. ,, Chiming the sweet 
bells of her laughter, she glided away among her excited 
attendants, the silver mockery reaching them after she 
had vanished into the house. 

Randalin awoke to a sense of bewilderment. “ It 
is true that I do not know where to go, now that this 
place is upset. ,, 

The question was repeated in her lover’s attitude; 
but Thorkel Jarl answered it, coming between them and 
drawing her aside. 

“ I will remedy that,” he said. “ My men are to 
fetch you to the Palace so soon as ever your lady has 
left. The King has a use for you.” The rest he spoke 
into her ear, but its effect was to blanch her cheeks and 
cause her hands to clasp each other in terror as she 
started back. 

“ I cannot ! ” she cried. “ I cannot.” 

“You must,” he said harshly. “Or you will 
do little credit to the blood that is in you. Do 
you no longer think your father and brother of any 
importance? ” 

“ They are pitiless to demand it of me,” she mur- 
mured, and buried her face in her hands. 

Anger leaped from the young noble’s eyes as, in 
his turn, he came between her and the Jarl. He said 

35 2 


WHEN THE KING TAKES A QUEEN 

forcefully, “ No one shall ask anything of you that you 
do not want, nor shall any king compel you. Yet I 
think I have a right to know what his will is with you.” 

“ You have not,” the Dane contradicted. “ Do you 
think the King’s purposes are to be opened to the sight 
of every Angle who becomes his man? Nor have you 
any right soever over her who is the King’s ward. End 
this talk, maiden, and give me your promise to be 
obedient.” 

She gave it in a cry of despair, “ I must — I know 
I must ! ” then sought to make peace with her lover by 
laying caressing hands on his breast. “ And he is 
right, love, that I ought not to tell any one. It is 
another one of those things that you must trust.” 

But for once the Etheling’s will did not bend to 
her coaxing; his mouth was doggedly set as he looked 
down upon her. “ I trust no man I do not know,” he 
answered, “ and I do not know Canute the man, — nor 
do I greatly like what I have heard of him, or this plan 
of sending me from the City at this time. You have no 
cause to reproach me with lack of faith in you, Ran- 
dalin, for when every happening — even your own 
words — made it appear as if it were love for Rothgar 
Lodbroksson which brought you into the camp, I looked 
into your eyes and believed them against all else.” In 
the intensity of the living present he forgot the dead 
past — until he saw its ghosts troop like gray shadows 
across her face. 

“ Love for Rothgar Lodbroksson?” she repeated, 
drawing back. “ Then you did believe that I could love 

2 3 353 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Rothgar? ” Her voice rose sharply. “ You believed 
that I followed him ! ” 

Too late he saw what he had done. “ I said that 
I did not- believe it,” he cried hastily. “ What I thought 
at first in my bewilderment, — that could not be called 
belief.” Now it was the present that he had forgotten 
in the past, as he strove desperately to recapture the 
phantoms and thrust them back into their graves. 

But she did not seem to hear his explanation as 
she stood there gazing at him, her mind leaping light- 
ning-like from point to point. “ It was that which made 
you behave so strangely in the garden,” she said, and 
she spoke each phrase with a kind of breathless finality. 
“You thought that I — I was like those — those other 
women in the camp.” As he tried to take her hand she 
drew farther away, and stood looking at him out of 
eyes that were like purple shadows in her white face. 
It was with a little movement of anger that she came to 
herself at last. “And what are you thinking of me 
now? Do you dare to dream that the King — ” Turn- 
ing, she confronted the old warrior fiercely. “ Thorkel 
Jarl, I ask you to tell the Lord of Ivarsdale as quick as 
you can what the King wants with me.” 

“ That I will not do,” the Jarl said quickly. “ You 
know no prudence, maiden. The Lord of Ivarsdale is 
also English ; a mishap might occur if — ” 

She flung the words at him ; “ I care not if it lose 
Canute his crown! If you will not risk it, I will tell 
him that the King settles to-night with Edric of Mercia 
and his men, and that it is to witness the punishment 
354 


WHEN THE KING TAKES A QUEEN 

of my kinsmen’s murderer that he has sent for me. As 
for my camp-life, ask Rothgar himself, or Elfgiva, or the 
King — or any soldier of the host! Of them all, you 
alone have thought such thoughts of me.” She flung 
up her hands against him in a kind of heart-broken 
rage. “You! To whose high-mindedness I trusted 
everything I have ! ” Hiding her face, she ran from 
them, sobbing, into the house. 


355 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 


Circumspect and reserved 
Every man should be, 

And wary in trusting friends ; 

Of the words 

That a man says to another 
He often pays the penalty. 

HAVAMAL. 



AKING to tapestried walls 
>and jewelled lanterns and a 
strange splendor of furnish- 
ings, Randalin experienced 
a moment of wild bewilder- 
ment. What had happened 
to the low-ceiled dormitory 
with its bare wall-spaces 
splotched with dampness? 
What had become of the 
row of white beds, with Dearwyn’s rosy face on the 
next pillow? And she herself — why was she lying on 
the outside of the covers, with all her clothes on, a 
cramped aching heap? Rising on her elbow, she gazed 
wonderingly at the frowzy woman stretched near her 
on a pallet. It was not until the woman turned over, 
puffing out her fat cheeks in a long breath, that the 
girl on the bed recognized her and knew what room this 

356 



THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 


was and remembered what had happened to separate 
to-day from all the yesterdays of her life. Falling down 
upon the pillows, she lay with her face hidden among 
them, living over with the swift sharpness of a renewed 
brain the scenes of the previous night. 

As she had seen it from the gallery where the 
King’s soldiers had hidden her, she saw again the great 
stone hall, enshrining a feasting-table around which a 
throng of nobles in their gorgeous dresses and their 
jewels and their diadems made a glittering halo. At 
the farther end, the King sat in his shining gilded chair. 
Just below her, was Edric of Mercia with Norman 
Leofwinesson beside him. She could not see their 
faces for their backs were toward her, but now and 
again the Gainer’s velvet voice rose blandly, and each 
time she was seized with shuddering. How was it 
possible that he did not feel disaster in the air? To her 
it seemed that the very torch-flames hissed warnings 
above the merriment, while the occasional pauses were 
so heavy with doom that their weight was well-nigh 
unendurable; at each, she was forced to fight down a 
mad impulse to scream and scatter the hush. 

Then the light from the taper which a page was 
holding behind Norman of Baddeby fell upon the 
gemmed collar that was his principal ornament, and the 
sight wrought a subtle change in her mood. The collar 
had been her father’s ; she could not look at it without 
seeing again his ruddy old face with its grim mouth 
and faded kindly eyes. Beside this vision rose another, 
— the vision of this beloved face dead in the moonlight, 

357 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


with Fridtjofs near it, his brave smile frozen on his 
young lips. From that moment, softness and shrinking 
died out in her bearing as out of her heart, and her blood 
was turned to fire within her, — the liquid fire of the 
North. Hour after hour, she sat in rigid waiting while 
the endless line of servants ran to and fro with their 
silver dishes and the merriment grew and spread and 
the clinking came faster and louder and the voices grew 
thicker and wilder. 

When the wave of good-will and fellowship had 
reached its height, like one who would ride in upon its 
crest the Gainer rose to his feet and began speaking to 
the King. His manner was less smoothly deferential 
than when addressing Edmund, she noticed, affecting 
more the air of bluff frankness which one might who 
wished to disarm any suspicion of flattering; but she 
could not hear what he said because of the noise around 
him. The first words she heard distinctly were Canute’s, 
as he paused with upraised goblet to look at the Mer- 
cian. Like an arrow his voice cleft the uproar, so that 
here and there men checked the speech on their lips to 
look at him, and their neighbors, observing them, paused 
also, until the lull extended from corner to corner. 

“ Strangely do you ask,” he said. “ Why should 
I give you more than Edmund gave you?” 

She had no difficulty in hearing Edric this time. 
Aggressively honest, his words rang out with startling 
sharpness : “ Because it was for you that I went against 
Edmund, and from faithfulness to you that I afterwards 
destroyed him.” 


358 


THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 


Out of the stillness that followed, a voice cried, 
“Are you mad?” and there was the grating of chairs 
thrust hastily back. But, after a great wrench, her 
heart stood still within her as through the madness she 
perceived the purpose. As well as Edric of Mercia she 
knew that the young Viking’s vulnerable point was his 
longing for his own self-esteem, a craving so unreckon- 
ing in its fervor that — should he have the guilty con- 
sciousness the traitor counted on — rather than endure 
his own reproach for cowardice he would be equal to 
the wild brazenness of flinging the avowal in the teeth 
of his assembled court. Her pulses began to pound in 
a furious dance as the same flash of intuition showed her 
the rock upon which the Gainer’s audacious steering 
was going to wreck him. 

For no skulking guilt was in the face of the new 
King of England as he met the startled glances, but 
instead a kind of savage joy that widened his nostrils 
and drew his lips away from his teeth in a terrible 
smile. 

“ Now much do I thank whatever god has moved 
you to open speech,” he said, “ for with every fibre of 
my body have I long wanted to requite you for that 
faithfulness. Knowing that you were coming to-night 
to ask it, I have the reward ready. Never was recom- 
pense given with a better will.” Leaping to his feet, he 
hurled the goblet in his hand against the opposite wall 
so that it was shattered on the stone behind the embroid- 
ered hangings. At the signal the tapestry was lifted, and 
in the light stood Eric of Norway, leaning on a mighty 

359 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


battle-axe. To him the King cried in a loud voice, all 
the irony gone from it, leaving it awful as the voice of 
Thor at Ragnarok. “ Do your work where all can see 
you, Eric Jarl, that no man shall accuse me of being 
afraid to bear my deeds. And let Norman Leofwinesson 
die with his lord for the slaying of Frode of Avalcomb.” 

A roar of hideous sound — a confusion of over- 
turned lights, of screeching servants, of writhing strug- 
gling bodies — above it all, the vision of that glittering 
axe poised in the air — then flashing downward, — 
Randalin’s recollections blurred, ran together, and faded 
out in broken snatches. 

She recalled a brief space of something like sleep- 
walking as the soldiers led her through branching corri- 
dors to this room, and fetched for her attendant the 
only woman available, a wench they had taken from 
trencher-washing in the royal kitchen. She remembered 
irritably rejecting the woman’s clumsy services and 
sending her to sleep on her pallet, while she herself 
walked to and fro with her surging thoughts until sheer 
physical exhaustion forced her to throw herself upon the 
bed. After that she remembered — nothing. 

“ I am glad that I did not disgrace my kin by 
screaming or fainting,” she reflected now, as she raised 
herself stiffly. “ I am glad I did that much credit to my 
name.” She flushed as her hand, touching the pillow, 
found it wet, and for an instant the bearing of her head 
was less erect. “ I do not remember what I dreamed,” 
she murmured, “ but full well I know that it was not be- 
cause Norman Leofwinesson is slain that I shed tears 

360 


THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 


in my sleep.” For a while she drooped there, her eyes 
on the open window, outside of which a robin was 
singing blithely among the cherries. But all at once 
she seized the pillow with a kind of fierceness, and 
turned it over and piled the others on top of it, crying 
under her breath, “ How dared he ! How dared he ! 
I will shed no tears for him while I am awake. I will 
remember only that I am my father’s daughter and the 
Lady of Avalcomb.” 

Proudly as became an odal-woman, she followed 
the page when he came at last to call her to the royal 
presence. The great stone hall in which the King 
awaited the arrival of his Norman bride was the same 
room in which he had feasted the night before, but 
tables and dishes now were gone, gold-weighted tapes- 
tries hung once more over the door by which Eric of 
Norway had made his entrance, and a rich-hued rug 
from an Eastern loom lay over the spot where she had 
seen the axe rise and fall. Crossing the threshold, the 
commonplaceness of it all clashed so discordantly with 
the scene in her memory that for an instant she grew 
faint and clung to the curtains between which she was 
passing. That death should leave so little trace, that 
the spot which one night was occupied by a headsman, 
the next, should hold a bride, made her fancy reel with 
horror even while she pulled herself together sternly. 

“This is life as in truth it is,” she said. “It is well 
that I understand at last how terrible everything really 
is, and how little anything matters.” Forcing herself 
to tread the rug with steady step, she came where the 

361 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


King stood by an open window. He was as changed as 
the room, though in honor of his bride he wore again 
state robes of silk and cloth-of-gold, for the fire of the 
Northern lights was gone out of his face, leaving it dull 
and lustreless. In the garden below, a minstrel was 
making hay in the sun of the royal glance by a rapid 
improvising of flattering verses which he was shouting 
lustily to his twanging harp, but now the King’s hand 
rose curtly. 

“ Your imagination has no small power, friend, yet 
save some virtues in case you should want to sing to 
me again,” he advised as he tossed down a coin and 
turned away. 

His ward courtesied deeply before him. “ For your 
justice, King Canute, I give you thanks drawn from the 
bottom of my heart,” she said. 

“ I welcome you to your own, Lady of Avalcomb,” 
he answered as he returned her salutation. Leaning 
against the window frame he stood a long while looking 
at her in silence, — so long that she was startled when 
at last he spoke. “ Yet for the good of the realm, I must 
lay on your odal one burden, Frode’s daughter.” 

“ What is that, King? ” 

“ It is that before the year is out you take a husband 
who shall be able to defend your land in time of need.” 

Her white cheeks went very red before him and 
then grew very pale again, while her breast rose and 
fell convulsively. But she clasped her hands over it 
as though to still its protest and, suddenly, she flung 
up her head in a kind of trembling defiance. “ What 

362 


THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 


does it matter? King, I know what a Danish woman 
owes her race. Choose you the man and this shall, like 
other things, be as you wish.” 

It was evident that her answer took him by sur- 
prise, for he bent from the wall to observe her. “ I 
choose ! ” he repeated. “ Have you then no choice? ” 
She tried to say “ No ” ; she tried desperately to 
say it; but already her courage was crumbling under 
her. All at once she took her hands from her breast 
to hold them out pleadingly, and her voice was broken : 
“ Lord, let me go back to Avalcomb — now — to-day ! ” 
“Wherefore to-day?” he asked. “I had thought 
you would remain here for a while and get honor from 
Queen Emma.” A moment he looked away from her, 
out of the window at the drifting clouds. “ I can tell 
you, Frode’s daughter, that while she is noble in her 
birth, she is still nobler in her mind,” he said gravely. 
“ Little would there be in her service for you to take 
ill. I think it possible that she might be highly helpful 
to you. There is that about her which makes the good 
in one come out and bask like a snake in the sun, while 
the evil slinks away shadow-like — ” 

She interrupted him with a cry that was half a sob. 
“ Lord King, I cannot bear it to see more people that 
are strange to me ! Since I left my father’s house I have 
felt the starkness of strangers, and now — now I can 
endure it no longer. My heart within me is as though 
it were bruised black and blue. Let me go back where 
all know me, — where none will hold me off at arm’s 
length to challenge me with his eyes, but all love me and 

3 6 3 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


place faith in me because they know me. Lord, give 
me leave to go home, — pray it of you ! Beseech it of 
you ! ” Entreating, she would have fallen at his feet 
if he had not caught her hands and stayed her. 

He did not release them immediately but tightened 
his grasp as his eyes, grown suddenly keen, searched 
her face. His voice dropped low. “ Randalin, it is 
very unlikely that Elfgiva’s scratches have brought 
you to this. Do you stand in need of reminding that 
any man who has angered you has angered me? That 
my sword lies under your hand?” 

Her face seemed to have become glass before him, 
through which he looked into the innermost cham- 
bers of her mind. Terror-stricken, she snatched 
her hands away to cover it. “ No, no ! ” she cried 
wildly. “ I am angry with no one. I have found fault 
with no one. Draw no sword for me — only let me 
go!” 

Again he turned from her and stood looking out 
at the clouds ; but when at last he spoke, his voice was 
the gentlest she had ever heard it. “ You are wise in 
this, as in other things, Frode’s daughter,” he said, “ and 
you shall certainly have your way. I take it that I am 
your guardian to protect you from harm, not to force 
you into things you do not want. Soldiers I can trust 
shall go with you, in case there be danger from Nor- 
man’s people, and for women — ” 

She spoke up eagerly, “ There is an old nun at 
Saint Mildred’s, King, who loves me. I think she would 
come to me until others could be found.” 

364 


THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 


“ Go then,” he granted. “ Thorkel shall see to it 
that men and horses are ready when you are.” He held 
out his hand, but when she took it in both of hers and 
would have saluted it reverently, he would not let her 
but instead raised her fingers to his lips. An odd note 
was in his voice. “ Heavy is it for my tongue to say 
farewell to you, Frode’s daughter,” he said, “for your 
friendship has surpassed most other things in pleasant- 
ness to me.” 

Frank liking mingled with gratitude and reverence 
as she looked up at him. “ I have got great kindness 
and favor from you, King Canute ; I pray that you will 
be very happy with your Queen.” 

A moment he pressed his lips to her hand; then 
gently set it free. “ I give you thanks,” he returned, 
“ but happiness is for me to wish you. The best you 
can ask for me is that sometime I shall become what 
you believed me to be the day you came to me at 
Scoerstan.” 

She tried to tell him that she believed him that 
now, — but something in her forbade the untruth. She 
could do no more than leave him, with a mute gesture 
of farewell. 

Perhaps her gaze was not quite clear as she crossed 
the room, for she did not see that the door-curtains were 
moving until she was close upon them, when they were 
thrust apart to admit the form of Rothgar Lodbroksson. 
Stifling a gasp, she shrank behind a tall chair. 

He did not see her, however, for his eyes were 
fastened upon the King, who had turned back to the 

365 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


window. He had cast aside the splendor of the royal 
guards, wearing over his steel shirt a kirtle of blue 
that made his florid face seem redder and gave to his 
fiery hair a hotter glow. Two sentinels carrying shining 
pikes had followed him in, uncertainly, and now one 
plucked at his arm. But the Jotun shook him off to 
stride forward, clanking his heels with intentional 
noisiness upon the stone floor. 

At the clatter the King looked around, and the tone 
in which he spoke his friend’s name had in it more of 
passion than all the lover’s phrases he had ever paid 
Elfgiva’s ears. At the same time, he made a sharp sign 
to the two sentinels. “ Get back to your posts,” he 
said. 

Hesitating they saluted and unwilling they wheeled, 
while one spoke bluntly over his shoulder. “ It would 
be better to let us stay, King, if you please. You are 
weaponless.” 

“ Go,” Canute repeated. 

In a moment the doors beyond the curtain had 
closed behind them, and the two men were alone save 
for the girl hiding forgotten in the shadow of the chair. 

Rothgar laughed jarringly. “ Whatever has been 
told about you, you have not yet been accounted a 
coward. But I do not see how you know I shall not 
kill you. I have dreamed of it not a few times.” 

Something like a veil seemed to fall over the King’s 
face; from behind it he spoke slowly as he moved 
away to the dais upon which his throne-chair stood, 
and mounted the steps. “ The same dream has come 

366 


THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 


to me, but never has it occurred to me to seek you 
out to tell you of it.” 

“ No such purpose had I,” the Jotun said with a 
touch of surliness. Pulling a bag from under his belt, 
he shook out of it upon the floor a mane of matted 
yellow hair. “ If you want to know my errand, it is 
to bring you this. Yesterday it came to my ears that 
one of my men was suspected of having tried to give 
you poison through your wife’s British thrall. I got 
them before me and questioned them, and the Scar- 
Cheek boasted of having done it. This is his hair. If 
you remember anything about the fellow, you under- 
stand that he was not alive when I took it from him.” 

The King looked immovably at the yellow mass. 
“ You have behaved in a chieftain-like way and I thank 
you for it,” he said. “ But I would have liked it better 
if you had come to me about the judgment that raised 
this wall between us — ” 

Rothgar’s throat gave out a savage sound. “ Tempt 
me not ! I am no sluggish wolf.” 

But Canute spoke on : “ What I expected that day 
was that you would come to me, as friend comes to 
friend, and with my loose property I would redeem from 
you every stick and stone which my kingship had forced 
me to hold back. Not more than they have called me 
coward, have men ever called me stingy — ” 

“And when have men called me greedy?” the 
Jotun bellowed. “ Your thoughts have got a bad habit 
of lying about me if they say that it was greed for 
land which made me take your judgment angrily. Ex- 

367 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


cept for the honor of my stock, what want I with land 
while I have a ship to bear me? I tell you, now as 
heretofore, that it was your treachery which unsheathed 
a sword between us.” 

“Rothgar my brother, — ” the veil was rent from the 
King’s face and he had stepped from the dais and seized 
the other by the shoulders as though he would wrestle 
bodily with him, — “ by the Holy Ring, I swear that I 
have never betrayed you! If you grudge not the land 
to the Englishman, you have no cause to grudge him 
anything under Ymer’s skull. Can a man change his 
blood? — for so much a part of me is my friendship 
for you. Time never was when it was not there, and 
it would be as possible to fill my veins with Thames 
water as to put an Englishman into your place. Can 
you not understand — ” 

But Rothgar’s hand had fallen upon the other’s 
breast and pushed him backward so that he was forced 
to catch at the chair-arm to save himself from falling. 
“ Never get afraid about that,” he sneered. “ Since we 
slept in one cradle, I have been a thick-headed Thrym 
and your Loke’s wit has fooled me into doing your 
bidding and fighting your battles and giving you my 
toil and my limbs and my faith, but wisdom has grown 
in me at last. You undertake too steep a climb when 
you try to make me believe in your love while before 
my eyes you give to the man I hate my lands and the 
woman you had promised me and my place above your 
men — ” His rage choked him so that he was obliged 
to break off and stand drawing his sword from his 

368 


THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 


sheath and slamming it back with a sharp sound. His 
voice came back in a hoarse roar. “When I reckon 
up the debt against you, I know that the only thing to 
wipe it out would be your life. Not taken by poison 
nor underhandedly, but torn out of your deceitful body 
as we stand face to face. If I could do that, it might 
be that my anger would be quenched.” Again he drew 
his blade half out, — and this time he did not shove it 
back. His huge body seemed to draw itself together, 
crouching, as he leaned forward. “ Why do you stand 
there looking as though you thought you were Odin? 
Do you think to blunt my weapon with your eyes? 
Why do you tempt me? ” 

The King had not moved away from the chair 
against which he had staggered, and the prints of his 
nails were on its arm. He was as though he had 
hardened to stone. “ To show you that I am stronger 
than you, though I face you with bare hands,” he said. 
“ To show you that you dare not kill me.” 

“ Dare not ! ” Rothgar’s laughter was a hideous 
thing as he cleared at a bound the space between them. 
His sword was full-drawn now. “ Shout for your 
guards! It may be that they will get here in time.” 

But the King neither gave back nor raised his 
voice. “ I will not,” he said, “ nor will I lift hand 
against you. Never shall you have it to say that I 
forgot you had endangered your life for mine. On your 
head it shall be to break the blood-oath.” 

Now they were breast to breast. In her mind, the 
girl in the shadow flung open the doors and shrieked 

24 369 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


to the sentinels and roused the Palace; in her body, 
she stood spellbound, voiceless, breathless. 

Still Rothgar did not strike. It was the King who 
spoke this time also. “ Among the sayings of men in 
Norway,” he said coldly, “there is one they tell of a 
traitor who carried a sword of death against his King, 
but lacked the boldness to use it before the King’s face. 
So he begged his lord to wrap a cloak around his head 
that he might get the courage to ask a boon. When 
that had been done, he stabbed. Do you want me to 
cover my eyes? ” 

With a hoarse cry, Rothgar flung his sword back 
to his sheath, recoiling, — there was even a kind of fear 
in his manner : “ A fool would I be, to set your ghost 
free to follow me with that look on its face! Keep 
your life — and instead I will torture every Angle I 
can get under my grip, for it is they who have turned 
a great hero into a nithing — may they despise you as 
you have despised your people for their sakes ! ” In- 
voking the curse with a sweep of his handless arm, he 
strode from the room. 

Randalin did not see when he passed her, for her 
eyes were on the King as he stood looking after his 
foster-brother. 

“ Ah, God, what a terrible world hast Thou made ! ” 
she murmured, as she put up her hands to ease the 
swelling agony in her throat. “ No longer will I try 
to live in it. I will go to the Sisters and remain with 
them always.” 

Through the doors opening before the Jotun there 

37o 


THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 


came in a sudden buzz of laughing voices, while a 
breeze brought through the window a ringing of bells 
and a clarioning of approaching horns. Upon the girl 
in the shadow and the King on the dais, the sounds 
fell like the dissolving of a spell. She ran swiftly to the 
little door behind the tapestry and let herself out unseen, 
unheard. The King mounted the throne he had won 
and sat there in regal state, facing the throng of splen- 
did courtiers trooping in to give him their wedding 
greetings. 


37 1 


CHAPTER XXXII 


IN TIME’S MORNING 


He wins who woos. 

HAVAMAL. 



HE hot glare of a July sun 
was on the stones of the 
Watling Street and July 
Iwinds were driving hosts of 
battling dust-clouds along 
the highway, but in the 
herb garden of Saint Mil- 
Idred’s cool shadows lay 
[over the dew-beaded grass 
land all was restfulness and 
peace. The voice of the girl who was following Sister 
Wynfreda from mint clump to parsley bed, from fennel 
to rue, was not much louder than the droning of the 
bees in the lavender. 

“ If it be true as you say, — ” she was speaking 
with the passionate bitterness of wounded youth, — “ if 
it be true that in his place anyone would have believed 
what he believed, then is this a very hateful world and 
I want no further part in it.” 

Over the fragrant leaves which she was touching 
as fondly as if they had been children’s faces, Sister 

372 



IN TIME’S MORNING 


Wynfreda gently shook her head. “ Think not that it 
is altogether through the world’s evil-heartedness, dear 
child. Think rather that it is because mankind is not 
always brave and shrinks from disappointment, that it 
dares not believe in good until good is proved.” 

“ I know that one dares not always believe in happi- 
ness, the girl conceded slowly, “ for when my happiness 
was like a green swelling wave, white fear sprang from 
the crest of it and it fell — Sister, did that forebode my 
sorrow? ” 

Awhile, the nun’s eyes widened and paled as eyes 
that see a vision, but at last she bowed her head to 
trace a cross upon her breast. “ Not so ; it is God’s 
wisdom,” she said, “ else would the world be so beauti- 
ful that we would never hunger after heaven.” 

Mechanically, Randalin’s hands followed hers 
through the holy sign; then she clasped them before 
her to wring them in impatient pain. “ That is so long 
to go hungry, Sister! I shall be past my appetite.” 
Dropping down beside the other, her slim young fingers 
began to imitate the gnarled old ones as they weeded 
and straightened. “ I wonder at it, Sister Wynfreda, 
that you do not urge me to creep in with you. A year 
ago, y°u wanted it when I wanted it not; but now 
when I am willing, you hold me off.” 

“ Is it clear before your mind that you are willing, 
my daughter? ” the nun asked gently. As she drew 
herself to her feet with the aid of a bush, the cramping 
of her feeble stiffened muscles contracted her face in 
momentary pain, but her eyes were serene as the altar 

373 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


lamps. “ It lies upon you to remember, little sister, 
that those who would serve God around the altar must 
not go thither only because the world has mistreated 
them and they would cast it off to avenge the smart. 
She who puts on the yoke of Christ must needs do so 
because it is the thing she would desire of all, were all 
precious things spread out for her choosing. Can you 
look into my eyes and say that it would be so with 
you? ” 

Where she knelt before her, the girl suddenly threw 
her arms around the woman and hid her face in the 
faded robes. The frail hand stroked the dark hair 
affectionately. 

“ Think not that I would upbraid you with it, child 
as dear as my own heart. When the Power that took 
you from me led you back again, and I read what God’s 
fingers had written on your face that before was like 
a lineless parchment, I could not find it in my mind to 
wish you otherwise. I felt only shame for the weakness 
of my faith, and joy past all telling.” 

Under the soothing hand, Randalin’s sobs slowly 
ceased; when at last she raised her wet eyes there 
was no longer rebellion in them but only youth’s 
measureless despair. “ Sister, now as always, I want 
to do what you would have me — but I am so full 
of grief! Must I go back to Avalcomb and begin 
all over again? It seems to me that my life stretches 
before me no more alluringly than yonder dusty road, 
that runs straight on, on, over vast spaces but always 
empty.” 


374 


IN TIME’S MORNING 


The beauty that had been Sister Wynfreda’s hov- 
ered now about her mouth as fragrance around a dead 
rose. Her gaze was on a branch above them where a 
little brown bird, calling plaintively, was slipping from 
her nest. Over the wattled edge, two tiny brown heads 
were peeping like fuzzy beech-nut rinds. “ I wonder,” 
she said, “ what those little creatures up there will 
think when a few months hence the blue sky becomes 
leaden, such that no one of them ever before recol- 
lected it so dark, and the sun that is wont to creep to 
them through the leaves has gone out like a candle be- 
fore the winter winds? By reason of their youth, I sup- 
pose they will judiciously conclude with themselves that 
there is never going to be any blue sky again, that their 
lives will stretch before them in a dark-hued stress of 
weather, empty of all save leafless trees and frozen fields. 
My fledgeling, will they not be a little ashamed of their 
short-sightedness when the spring has brought back 
the sun?” 

The girl’s lips parted before her quickening 
breath, and the old nun smiled at her tenderly as she 
moved away with her hands full of the green sym- 
bols of healing. “ Settle not the whole day of your 
life at its morning, most dear child, but live it hour 
by hour,” she said. “ If you would be of use now, 
go gather the flowers for the Holy Table, and when 
themselves have drawn in holiness from the spot, 
then shall you bring them to the sick woman over the 
hill.” { 

“ Yes, Sister,” the girl said submissively. 

375 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


But when she had crossed the daisied grass and 
opened the wicket gate and came out into the fragrant 
lane, something seemed to divide her mind with the 
roses, for though she sent one glance toward the hedge, 
she sent another to the spot beyond — where the lane 
gave out upon the great Street to the City — and after 
she had walked a little way toward the flowers, she 
turned and walked a long way toward the road, until 
she had come where her eyes could follow its white 
track far away over the hills. 

“ I wonder if I shall ever hunger for heaven as I 
hunger for the sight of him,” she murmured as she 
gazed. 

But whatever the valleys might hold, the hillsides 
showed her nothing ; sighing, she turned back. “It seems 
to me,” she said, “ that if we could have little tastes of 
heaven as we went along, then would there still be 
enough left and the road would seem much shorter.” 
Sighing, she set to work upon the roses, that had twined 
themselves in a kindly veil over the bushes. 

Standing so, it happened that she did not see the 
horseman who was just gaining the crest of the nearest 
hill between her and the City. The wind being from 
her, she did not even hear the hoof-beats until the horse 
had turned from the glare of the sun into the shadow 
of the fern-bordered lane. The first she knew of it, she 
glanced over her shoulder and saw the red-cloaked 
figure riding toward her along the grass-grown path. 

As naturally as a flower opens its heart at the 
coming of the sun, she leaned toward him, breathing his 

376 


IN TIME’S MORNING 


name ; then in an impulse equally natural, as he leaped 
from his saddle before her, she drew back and half 
averted her face, flickering red and white like the blos- 
soms she was clasping to her breast. 

He stopped abruptly, a short stretch of grass still 
between them, — and it soothed her bruised pride a 
little that there was no longer any confident ease in his 
manner but only hesitation and uncertainty. His voice 
was greatly troubled as he spoke : “ Never can I forgive 
myself for having wounded you, sweetheart, yet had 
I hoped that you might forgive me, because I knew not 
what I did and because I have suffered so sorely for it.” 

“ You have suffered,” she repeated with a little 
accent of bitterness. 

“ I beseech you by my love that you do not doubt 
it ! ” Hesitation gave way before a warmth of reproach. 
“For a man to know that he has wounded what he 
would have died to shield — that he has wronged where 
he would have given his life to honor — that it may be 
he has lost what is body and soul to him, — what else 
is that but suffering?” 

It was only a very little that her face turned toward 
him, and he could not see how her downcast eyes were 
taking fire from his voice. He stood looking at her in 
despair, until something in the poise of her head taught 
him a new rune among love’s spells. Drawing softly 
near her, he spoke in noblest conciliation : “ Is it your 
pride that cannot pardon me, Lady of Avalcomb? Do 
I seem to sue for grace too boldly because I forget to 
make my body match the humbleness of my heart? 

377 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


Except in prayer or courtesy, we are not loose of knee, 
we Angles, but I would stoop as low as I lowest might 
if that could make you kinder, dear one. ,, Baring his 
head, he knelt down at her feet, — and the difference 
between this and the time when he had bent before her 
in the Abbey, was the difference between tender jest and 
tenderest earnest. “ Thus then do I ask you to give 
me back your love,” he said gently, — and would have 
said more but that she turned, stirred to a kind of 
generous shame. 

“ It needs not that, lord ! I know you did not mean 
it. And they have told me that — that I have no right 
to be angry with you — ” She broke off, as looking into 
his face she saw something that startled her into forget- 
fulness of all else. “ Why are your cheeks so hollow? ” 
she demanded. “ And so gray — as though you had 
lost blood? Lord, what has come near you?” 

He could not conceal the sudden pleasure he got 
out of her alarm for him, even while he answered as 
lightly as he could that it was no more than the fatigue 
of his three days in the saddle ; and a lack of food, per- 
haps, as he had been somewhat pressed for time; and 
a lack of sleep because of — 

But she was a warrior’s daughter, and she would 
not be put off. Coming close to him, she pulled aside 
the dusty cloak, hot as a live coal in the glare of the 
day, and there — behold! — there were blood stains on 
the breast of his blue kirtle. Forgetful of everything 
else, she flung her arms around him as though to shield 
him. “ Sebert, you are wounded! What is it? ” 

378 


IN TIME’S MORNING 


Nothing that troubled him very much, apparently, 
for his haggard face had grown radiant with gladness. 
Yet he was enough afraid of the reaction to answer her 
as gravely as possible : “ It is Rothgar Lodbroksson, 
whom I met coming from the City as I was journeying 
back from my errand in Northampton. Little affection 
has ever passed between us, and this time something 
more than usual seemed to have stirred him against me, 
for — ” 

“ He tried to kill you ! ” The words were not a 
question but a breathless assertion as she remembered 
the Jotun’s last threat. 

“ He tried to kill me,” the Marshal assented quietly. 
“ And his blade did manage to pierce my mail ; he is a 
giant in strength as in other things. But it cut no more 
than flesh ; and after that, Fortune wheeled not toward 
him.” 

“ You slew him!” 

Her lips were white as she gasped it, but he knew 
now that it was no love for the Jotun that moved her, 
and he answered promptly to her unspoken thought: 
“ No, sweet, — for the King’s sake, I spared him. Be- 
fore this, his men have taken him aboard his ship and 
England is rid of him.” 

Murmuring broken phrases of thanksgiving, she 
stood holding the cloak she had grasped, but he dreaded 
too much the moment of her awakening to await its 
coming inactive. Slipping his arms around her, he 
began to speak swiftly, the moment her silence gave 
him an opening. 


37Q 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


“ Never did I blame Rothgar much for his enmity 
against me, and now I thank him for this cut as for a 
gift, for through it I know that at least you have not 
outlawed me from your love. Dear one, as you are not 
unkind to so slight a thing as this wound in my flesh, 
so neither be without pity for the one that is so much 
deeper, in my heart ! As the scratch stayed your anger 
for a while, so, in the gentleness of love, let this which 
is mortal stay it for all time.” 

With his arms around her, she could not shrink 
very far away,. — nor was it seen that she tried to, — 
but all at once her words came in uneven rushes: 
“ How can I hold anger against you when, with every 
breath, my lips sigh for your kisses? Yet let no one 
wonder at it that I am frightened. ... You cannot 
conceive what a lurking place for terrors the world 
looks to me! Never, I think, shall I see men sitting 
together that I shall not suspect them of having murder 
in their hearts. Never shall I see two friends clasp 
hands but my mind will run forward to a time when 
they shall part in wrath and loneliness. Nay, even of 
the sound of my own voice I am afraid, lest whom- 
soever is hearing it — for all that he speak me fair — 
be twisting the words in his mind into evils I have not 
dreamed of. Sebert, I do not reproach you with it! 
I think it all the fault of my own blunders, — and 
therein I find a new terror. That one should suffer for 
wrong-doing is to be looked for, but if one is to be dealt 
with so unsparingly only for making mistakes, who 
knows where his position is or what to expect? Oh, 

380 


IN TIME’S MORNING 


my best friend, make me brave or I am likely to die 
only through fearing to live! With my ignorance my 
boldness went from me, until now my courage is lowly 
as a willow leaf. Love, make me brave again ! ” Trust- 
ing, in her very declaration of distrust, she clung to him 
to save her from herself. 

It was in the briar-pricked fingers, which he was 
pressing against his cheek, that he found his answer. 
Suddenly he spread them out in his palm before her, 
laughing with joyful lightness. “ Randalin, the thorns 
wounded your hands the while that you stripped yonder 
hedge, but did you stop for that? If I can prove to you 
that all these dark days you have been but plucking 
roses, can you not bravely bear with the pricks?” 

Putting her gently from him, he gathered up the 
spoils she had let fall, picking from among them with 
great care the fairest of either kind, while she, catching 
his mood, watched him April-faced. 

“ This,” he said gaily, “ is the red rose of my heart. 
Battle-fields lay between us and tower walls, and the 
way was long and hard to find, yet can you deny, my 
elf, that you came in and plucked it and wore it away 
in your hair, — to keep or to cast aside as pleased you? ” 

Smiles and tears growing together, she caught the 
blossom from him and pressed it to her lips. “ I will 
wear it in my bosom,” she answered, “ for my breast 
has been empty — since the day I saw you first.” 

Smiling, he held out the white rose, but his mood 
had deepened until now he looked down upon her as he 
had looked down upon her in the moonlit forest. “ This, 

381 


THE WARD OF KING CANUTE 


beloved, is the symbol of my faith,” he said. “ Your 
eyes took it from me that day at even-song. I hold it 
the dearer of the two, for with it goes my honor that 
is as stainless as its petals. It is worth more than life 
to me, — is it not worth some pricks to you? ” 

She took it from him reverently, to lay it beside 
the other, and as her face was too proud for fear so was 
it too tender for jesting. “ I am more honored,” she 
told him, “than Canute by his crown; and I will live 
as bravely to defend them.” 

But as he would have caught her to him, she 
leaned back suddenly to stretch a hand toward a dark- 
robed figure standing under the moss-grown arch, and 
her pride melted into a laugh of breathless happiness. 
“ Sister Wynfreda, you were very right,” she called 
softly, “ the world can be so beautiful that one has no 
hunger for heaven.” 


THE END 


382 


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